A Slice of Heaven, and One hell of a Girl
by goofy monkey child
Summary: Spinelli joins the Seventh Heaven Society...
1. A Big Mistake & An Unknown Intruder

Disclaimer: Hypothetical question- if someone so completely _obviously_ doesn't own Disney's Recess, do they still have to write a disclaimer???

A/N: YAAAAAAAAAYY!!!!! Sorry, just had to get that out…..but JEEZ! I can't believe how long it's taken me to get this out! I started this fan fic on the 26th December 2002, and here I am, just after one year later, and I'm only just putting it up- and I still haven't finished it! (Although, there _is_ the fact that I have been writing 20 other separate Recess fan fictions at the same time…..oh, and there was school…..)

But anyways, here it (finally) is- my very first 'proper' fan fiction (which I _desperately_ hope you like…..hint, hint…although I don't exactly know what you're expecting, so I really have no idea whether you'll like it or not.) So, without further ado- here it is…..(God I'm making a big deal of this- *smacks forehead*- "Loser! _Looooser!!!_)

*****

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**"A slice of heaven, and one hell of a girl"**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Introduction: Big Mistake**

            THWACK!!!!!

            The sound of a clenched fist forcefully striking its target filled the playground atmosphere, as a crowd of keyed-up kids roared for more.

            "And don't you EVER let me catch you _or_ your hired goons harassin' my friends AGAIN!!!" The infuriated bellow came from a plucky, punky-looking young girl with jet-black hair styled in unkempt pigtails, who looked about 10 years of age.

            "I-I-I'm sorry….." stuttered the recipient of the punch as he scrambled backwards on the playground asphalt. The drive of the blow had knocked him to the ground, and he now rose to his knees pitifully, grasping his left cheek.

"P-P-Please don't hurt me again Spinelli- I've learnt my lesson, honest….." 

The grovelling boy with curly auburn hair and a slightly hunched back put his hands up in a begging position as he cowered at the girl named Spinelli's boots. 

Big mistake. 

If there's one thing Spinelli hated, well actually there are a lot of things Spinelli hated, but if she could choose just one, it would be Randall Weems- the pathetic little low life stool pigeon that cringed, slightly indignantly, at her feet. And if she could choose another one thing she hated, it would be people that purposefully inflict pity on themselves. 

Spinelli grabbed the neckline of his plain blue shirt and yanked him up to her height. She pulled a fist back and prepared to play 'thwack the rat' again. But, despite the anger that was filling her mind, and fists, she decided to restrain herself- after all, she could get into a lot of trouble if Miss Finster, the harsh and vigilant playground & discipline supervisor, saw her punching 'her trusted spy' in the face. And besides, he _did_ say he was sorry.

She pushed him back onto the blacktop and looked down at him in disgust.

"You're not worth my time….." she said before walking away. There was a bit of silence and then a group of murmurings as the crowd of kids moved out back into the playground.

Spinelli walked over to five kids standing in front of a white, dome-shaped jungle gym. One of them, a somewhat chubby-faced boy with freckles, a backwards red cap, sandy-brown hair, and a bruised left eye, looked at Spinelli and said:

"You know you didn't have to do that." Spinelli looked at him and replied bluntly,

"What are you talkin' about T.J.? Of course I did. After what his thugs did to you and Vince I hadda' put him back in his place!" She looked scornfully over her shoulder to where two hefty 6th grader boys stood, talking among themselves. One of them glanced over in her direction, and she gave him a noxious death stare as she thought back to what had happened that morning…..

T.J. Detweiler had been up to his usual monkeyshines, you know- a bit of fake vomit here, a little feathering & tarring there- when 'getting back at Randall Weems' just happened to be next on T.J.'s agenda (he couldn't exactly remember _what_ Randall had done to get on his list but hey, it was Randall- does he need a reason?). This particular morning T.J. felt in the mood for a little underwear hoisting. So, in less than 3 minutes, and with a little help from his tall and athletic Negro friend (who, at this point, did _not_ have a dark patch of discoloration around his right eye) Vincent LaSalle, Randall's pink Beanie McChimp boxer shorts were on display for the entire school to laugh at, of which they were doing quite a good job. Randall looked over to see T.J. and Vince smiling contentedly up at their work- that's when he lost it. He was so angry, so infuriated, he felt like punching both of them wildly until all the degradation and shame went away. However, he looked down at his scrawny little body and somehow knew he'd never stand a chance. Then a thought struck him- what if he got someone to beat them up _for _him? He could easily blackmail any 6th grader to do it- all those 12 year olds are so self-conscious, they'd do practically anything to prevent getting a bad reputation, of which he could easily do with the right information. So during recess, Bradley and Eric (the toughest 6th graders Randall could find) dragged T.J. and Vince behind a dumpster and viciously beat them up. When they were done, the two victims stumbled back to their four other friends and told them all about what had happened. This is when Spinelli went to pay a visit to Randall and this is when the whole thing started.

As she looked hatefully at the two boys, she saw the real perpetrator march up to them and start saying something.

"What are _they_ talking about…..?" Spinelli said distrustfully, half to herself, half to her friends.

"Well, from what I can tell," said Gretchen Grundler, the freckle-faced, intellectual redheaded girl standing next to her, as she attempted to lip-read the conversation, "Randall is saying '…..the one that hit me,'" Then he looked over at Spinelli and then back at the boys. He started to talk again and Gretchen translated: " 'get her next.'"

"WHAT!!!" Spinelli exploded and started stomping swiftly towards Randall with a lethal glare in her eyes. As she got nearer Randall turned around and she started to run towards him.

"YOU LITTLE JERK!!!" And with that, she pounced on him and started throwing punches violently.

"You little….." SMACK! "Two-bit gob of spit!!" THWACK! "I let you _go_!!!" WHACK! "How could you!! You're such a little--"

"What on earth is going on out here?!?" Spinelli's thrashing frenzy was interrupted by the craggy voice of Miss Finster, as she shoved her way though the crowd of kids which had quickly formed around the fight.

Finster gasped as she looked down at the scene that was in front of her. That is, Randall lying helplessly trembling on the ground with a severely beaten face, and Spinelli, with fists clenched, kneeling intimidatingly over him.

"He he," Spinelli chuckled uneasily, "Miss Finster, what a surprise….."****

**Chapter one: Unknown Intruder**

"Stupid lousy stinkin'….." Spinelli mumbled to herself as she wrote repetitively on the blackboard, 'I will not maliciously attack defenceless classmates'. Just then Miss Finster walked into the room.

"What are you doing!" She asked sternly looking at the board, "I told you to write your lines on paper!"

"B-B-But I couldn't find any….." replied Spinelli slowly, immediately knowing what was coming next.….

"Stupid lousy stinkin'….." Spinelli mumbled to herself again 5 minutes later as she sat in a desk writing repetitively on a scrap piece of paper Finster gave her, 'I will not intentionally imitate Bart Simpson'.

"Hey, thrasher….." A voice came from one of the windows that faced outside the school grounds. Spinelli looked over to see a teenage boy, probably about 13 or 14 years old, climb through the open window. He was wearing a black bandanna over his cow-licked blonde hair, and he seemed to have some sort of sly attitude about him.

"Do I know you?" Spinelli asked in a tone as if to say 'No, I don't, so get lost please'.

"That's a stupid question- I'm a complete stranger that just climbed though the window of a school I've never even heard of before and you think there's a chance you know me?" he said plainly as he sat on the desk Spinelli was writing on.

"Look here wise guy," Spinelli said, starting to get annoyed with this unknown intruder, "Who are you and where do you get off callin' me 'thrasher'?!"

"Sorry thrasher, I didn't introduce myself! Name's Tyson Tyzack. I was walkin' past your school when I saw you beatin' up some weird ugly kid. And I don't mean just any old beatin'- you've got a real gift there, kid! Anyway, I thought if you weren't busy you might like to come to one of our meetings this afternoon." He then pulled a business card out of his tattered plaid vest and handed it to Spinelli. She took the card and quickly read down it.

"What's the Seventh Heaven Society?" asked Spinelli, looking at the card.

"That's the name of the club." Tyson replied looking at his watch. He got up from the table and walked back over to the window. "Listen, I gotta' go." He casually climbed out the window and turned back to say, "Anyway, hope you can make it- come to the address on the card. Remember, 3:00, after school. Come alone…"

As he walked away Spinelli thought of one more thing,

"Hey Tyson- speaking of school, shouldn't you be there?"

He turned around idly and said, 

"Yeah, probably….."

*****

**A/N:** Remember these are just 'intro' chapters. Hope you all had a Merry Christmas! Please R&R!


	2. Speak Of The Devil

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Recess- however I do plan to some day…..some wonderful, wonderful day…..

**A/N:** Congrats to Peaches the First for being the first reviewer of my very first 'proper fic'- you rock- as does everyone else that reviewed! And to Clintronic Waldrop- yes, I understand what you mean writing 20 fanfics at once, I originally planned to only be working on three, but I kept starting new ones! But I'm really paying for it now, because I have very little chance of ever getting any of them finished any time soon… Grr!!! Dang my lack of self-control!

**A/N 2: **Here's a Recess fun fact- did you guys know that Vincent Van Gogh (the artist)- his brother's name was Theodore? Vincent and Theodore…creepy, hey? Well…not so much creepy as it is coincidence, but still…..

*********

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter two: Speak of the devil**

Three o'clock and the bell sounded for home time. Hordes of kids flocked out of the school grounds like ants pouring out of a freshly spat-in nest, and Spinelli decided to make this time useful by slipping away from her friends.

A few minutes later as she turned to walk down another street, Spinelli pulled out the business card from her leather jacket pocket. '6/66 Rosewood Drive'. She looked down the street- for such a nice name it was a pretty slummy place. Most of the street was covered in filth, not to mention the gutters that were blocked-up from rubbish, most of which were mainly things like used syringes, empty drug packets and cigarette butts. Stray and feral cats roamed the streets, and the whole place basically seemed destitute. She started counting houses when she finally came to a block of apartment buildings. This was number 66, now to find apartment 6. She looked up at the flimsy, half broken doors on the unfeeling, concrete building. No sixes there. It was then that Spinelli noticed a door not far off that was, ironically enough, hidden in the shadows. She walked over to the lonely door and looked at it. The sign said 'Basement', but just below it was a rough number '6' which had been crudely carved into the wooden door.

"Well, this must be it." She said as she took a deep breath and hesitantly knocked on the door.

Almost immediately a slot opened in the door and a pair of dark sunglasses peeked through the opening.

"Password?" asked a husky voice from behind the door, not taking their eyes off the unfamiliar visitor.

"Uhh…" Spinelli said as she thought back. Tyson hadn't said anything about a password. She looked at the card again for any sign of a secret message that could possibly be a password. Let's see…

'The Seventh Heaven Society

6/66 Rosewood Drive

General meetings weekdays 3-5 pm

Fridays/Saturdays 9-12 pm 

Tournaments-$20 admission

Today's Password: Shiner.'

Boy, that sure was tricky. But hey, what can you expect- these kids aren't in school most of the day- well, at least not the one she'd met.

"Uhh…Shiner…?" she said uncertainly to the dark lenses through the slot. The door was quickly pulled open by a burly sixteen-year-old boy with fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and surprisingly enough, a welcoming smile. Wearing all black clothes and a pair of dark sunnies, Spinelli guessed he was either a bouncer, or one of the MIB.

"Hi!" He said very friendlily as Spinelli started to walk into the dark corridor. "Welcome to the Seventh Heaven Juvenile Fighters' Society!"

"Fighters' Society?" Spinelli answered, "Oh! So that's what this place is!"

"Yeah," He looked at the card in Spinelli's hand as he shut the door, "Sorry we couldn't put it on the card, but if one of those got into the wrong hands we could be reported for charging admission to an unauthorised event- not to mention intentional violence put on display for entertainment purposes, and underage handouts…" he said, listing them off on his fingers.

"Oh, right…" said Spinelli looking down the concrete stairs in front of her, getting a bit anxious to see what this place was like.

"Oh, I'm sorry! You probably want to get to the ring. Come on, I'll show you the way." The boy said before walking down the set of concrete stairs that lay before them. Then they started to walk down a dark and slightly dank corridor, and the boy started to make conversation.

"So, I haven't seen you around here before. You must be new, especially considering you didn't know this was a fighters' society."

"Yeah well, I sort of only got invited this afternoon. This guy named Tyson climbed in the window while I was in detention and told me to come."

"Oh, that explains it. I was wondering how someone so young got asked to come here. You see, Tyson's a recruiter that likes cute girl fighters." Spinelli was about to give him a piece of her mind for calling her a girl, until she realised just how big this guy was, and decided to take it as a compliment. "Yeah, that Tyzack's a real ladies man, he'll enlist a pretty girl even if they can't fight their way out of a wet paper bag!" Spinelli rethought the 'compliment' notion and gave him an unwelcoming look. The boy looked back at her and realised what he had just said. "You look pretty tough though, exactly how old are you anyway?"

"I'll be 11 in October." Spinelli answered bluntly back. She was still a bit mad at the comment the boy had made.

"You're only ten?!" he said with astonishment. "Wow! You're the youngest member we've had in years! Boy, Tyson must've really seen something in you!"

"Well," Spinelli said a bit shyly, "he did sorta' see me beatin' up this kid at school." Spinelli thought back to this morning with resentment. "Little two-bit gob of spit, I shoulda' tore him a new-" Spinelli realised that that the boy was looking at her sort of weird, and also that she was talking to herself, so she quickly changed the subject. "Oh yeah, and Tyson called me 'thrasher' as well."

"Thrasher! Really? Man, he's only ever called _two_ guys that before, and they're both sort of 'legends' around here. You must have kicked the hell out of that kid!"

It took this long for Spinelli to notice that this was a _really_ long corridor. They had been walking for nearly 5 whole minutes.

"Well, here we are." They stopped in front of a thick timber door, of which Spinelli could hear a lot of yelling coming from the other side. He opened the door for her and said warmly "Go right in." Spinelli eagerly stepped inside. The door closed behind her but she didn't notice because she was too busy looking at, and walking over to, a crowd of at least forty adolescents standing around a boxing ring, yelling and cheering their guts out. Spinelli weaved her way through the crowd until she got to a place where she could see.

"Wow…" she said as she looked up at the action going on inside the ring. There were three people in there; one of them had a slit eyebrow and was backing up to one corner of the ring, another had a bit of a bruised knuckle and was advancing slowly on the first guy. The other person was holding a cordless microphone and watching from a safe distance as he commentated the event.

"Ooooh, and Flying Fox takes _another_ blow to the face! He looks like he may be down- no wait, he's getting up and- _ouch!_ He kicks The Trouncer right in the stomach! Man, that's _gotta'_ hurt!!!"

Spinelli suddenly recognized the voice of the guy who was refereeing- it was Tyson. She looked back at the ref- yep, it was definitely him.

"…8…9…10! He's down! The winner is Flying Fox!!!" Tyson held up the arm of the winning boy, and he beamed as he basked in the glory of his victory. Now that she saw him properly, Spinelli recognized the fighter too. It was Skeens, one of the underworld tyrants from her school. This gangly black-haired 12-year-old was particularly into graffiti, and funnily enough, couldn't spell his way out of a wet paper bag. Funny seeing someone she knew here. Actually, now that she looked around, there were a fair few people here that she knew. Sue-Bob Murphy, Kristen Kurst (commonly known as 'the worst') and Mundy (those were 3 of Skeens' friends) were here, also Jocko and Chewy (two of Lawson's mob) were here (Lawson was another oppressor at Spinelli's school, although considerably more annoying than the others. He was always picking on T.J.'s gang; challenging them to playoffs of all different sports, making fun of their blunders, and teasing them with the lamest pay-out names in history (eg: T.J. Dumb-weiler, Vince La-Stupid, Shrimp-nelli etc.). Lawson always got his butt kicked at the challenges, and his insults were more stupid than hurtful, but he was _constantly_ bugging them, and tenacious bullies are just plain annoying…). Spinelli noticed some more familiar faces in the crowd. There was her 13 yr old cousin Nick from 5th street school, a bunch of King Freddie's (the Third Street playground king for that year's) 6th grade henchmen, Bob (last year's playground king, who was now in Middle School and called Robbie- funny, he never seemed like much of a fighter) and Bradley and Eric- the two loser goons who'd beaten up two of her best friends, and almost beaten _her_ up at the command of the super-loser king himself, Randall Weems. Boy, she couldn't wait for their turn in the ring. 

At that moment she felt a hand around her shoulder. She shrugged it off and turned around to see Tyson giving her a wily grin.

"So, you showed up! Great to see, Thrasher." Tyson said as Spinelli looked back around. The kids were talking and moving around- it must've been some sort of an intermission thing.

"Hey Tyson!" Spinelli said with a smile, happy that she had someone to talk to during the break, "Man, why didn't you tell me this place was a fight club?"

"Well, I would've…but there's some _thing_ about illegal assemblies and some other stuff that the owner doesn't want to get spread around- that's why we only invite certain kids, the fighters, so that it doesn't get spread around to the wrong end of the law. Anyway as I was sayin', if I had told you what this place was, and you had decided not to come, you could've just gone off and told any guy about this place. Then we'd be in real trouble…" Tyson looked a bit downcast at the thought of this consequence, but then suddenly brightened up as he said: "But you're here, and you know now, so it doesn't matter. So…you like what you see?"

"Yeah! This place is awesome!" Spinelli answered enthusiastically as she looked up at the blue, white and red boxing ring. She looked across to a kid with a black trench coat on who was haggling with a couple of others. He must be the one with the 'handouts'. She then looked around at all the other kids- if she could so call them that- most of them looked older than thirteen, and she was pretty sure all of them were at least twelve.

"You'll have to try your luck in the ring 'sarvo. Give everyone a good impression on what you're made of before the tourney starts next Friday night."

"Tourney?" Spinelli asked the blonde-haired boy.

"Yeah, the tournament Friday and Saturday next week. We have one about once every three months. It costs $20 to enter, and whoever wins gets the money. It's done in the style of a sort of 'tag-team', where you choose a partner and you enter as a team. It's the one time we let more than just the fighters and trainers spectate the events. You see, pugilists tend to be big gamblers, so we invite a couple of bookies in to take the antes, and whatever the bookies make, they split 50-50 with our society. That helps us pay for the equipment that's too big to boost— Uhh…I mean, that's too big for us to pay with our own money…" Tyson looked about nervously for anyone who might have heard that little slip-up, but no one was close enough to hear him talking.

Spinelli had sort of dropped out when she heard the words _'whoever wins gets the money'_, and so hadn't heard Tyson's accidental explanation about where most of the equipment came from either.

"So how much _do_ the winners usually get?" Spinelli asked Tyson, wondering if any of the kids she knew here had ever won any cash, and if she should perhaps start being a bit nicer towards them…

"Well, there's usually about 25 teams entering, which means about 50 kids- and then there's about the same amount of kids paying admission to spectate as trainers and bookies- so probably around $2000?"

"Two-thousand dollars!!!" Spinelli said, not quite believing her ears. "So they get that for just winnin' one lousy tournament?" Not that $2000 was a _huge_ amount, but it was still a heck of a lot of money just for winning some little boxing contest.

"Hey! Our tourneys aren't lousy!" Tyson retorted putting a finger on Spinelli's chest, "And yes, it's usually about the two-thousand mark. You should enter- if you're as good as you were when I saw you earlier, you'd stand a reasonable chance of getting in the finals. That is, if you pick a beneficial partner." He seemed to trail into thought a bit there, but then suddenly snapped back into reality. "Anyway, as I was sayin' earlier, I'd like to see how you fare in the ring today- give you a chance to get to know the environment."

"Gee, I dunno'…" Spinelli looked around uneasily to all the older, muscular teenagers, casually talking among themselves. Most of them had some sort of visible injury, unmistakably from fighting, and she thought to herself uneasily, '_If these big beefy guys got themselves injured like that, then what kinda' chance do I stand?'_

"See Tyson, I'm not really a first-rate boxer, I'm more of a wrestler myself."

Tyson looked at Spinelli, somewhat intrigued by her statement.

"That's fine! The fighting here isn't limited to just boxing, you know. You can do pretty much anything you want once you're in the ring- the rules are pretty loose when it's just a general meeting. There was a guy here who almost won a match once using _yoga_…" Tyson glanced at his watch, then up at the analogue clock that was hanging on the wall. A smile then formed across his scheming face as he pulled Spinelli over to the announcers' table next to the ring. There was no one there yet, so he grabbed the microphone that was on the table and turned it on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now about to resume the sessions!" Suddenly the crowds formed back around the ring, and the next thing Spinelli knew Tyson was pulling her up into the platform.

"Who's next?!" Tyson yelled, as Kristen Kurst quickly climbed through the ropes and into the ring.

"I am, Tyzack!" replied Kurst, the oversized redheaded girl, as Tyson replied something like 'Great!' as he ran over to get his microphone.

"Well well well, if it isn't little Spinelli!" Kurst said in a mocking tone as Spinelli just stood there, wondering what the heck she was doing in the ring.

"Okay! Were gonna' get straight back into the fights so we don't lose any more time here." Tyson's voice shouted through the speakers. "In this corner we have," pointing to Kurst, "Kaptaaaaaaaain Krusheeeeeeeeeeeer!!!" The crowd half cheered, half booed as Kurst put her hands up in the air.

"And in this corner," Tyson pointed over to Spinelli, "We have our newest addition to the Seventh Heaven Society- umm…" Tyson took the mike away from his mouth for a second and went over to Spinelli. "Hey kid, what's your name?"

"Uhh…Spinelli…" She answered slowly as Tyson almost did a double take action, and then gave an incredulous grin as he rephrased the question. "No, I mean your _fighting_ name."

"Oh, uhh, I dunno'…I haven't really got one…" she answered, wondering why Tyson was so taken back when she told him her name.

"Well, think of one!!" Tyson said impatiently, as the spectators were getting restless.

"Okay…" Spinelli thought to herself quickly. She had to choose something that would impress everyone, not something stupid like 'Kaptain Krusher' or 'Flying Fox', too unimaginative for her liking. No, it had to be something good…maybe a foreign name? Like Senior Fusion or El Grapodora, those sorts of names seemed pretty popular for superheroes.

"Call me 'La Nina Diablo'!!" Spinelli said to Tyson, happy with herself that she had remembered _some_ of the smart foreign things Gretchen had ever said.

"The girl devil, eh? I like it! It suits you well…" Tyson replied as he put his mouth back up to the microphone and announced: "Please welcome 'La Ninaaaaaaaa Diaaaaaablooooooooooo!!!'" in true announcer-style vowel suspensions.

The crowd had the same reaction with her as with Kurst, except now there were also slight gasps and murmurs in there too.

The girls stood near the middle of the ring facing each other as Tyson came up to them.

"Okay girls, you know the rules." He stepped away quickly and Spinelli heard a dinging sound. Nervousness filled her mind as she looked at Tyson with worry.

"W-W-Wait a second! What rule--"

SMACK!!!

That was as far as Spinelli got because, before she knew it, Kurst had thrown a solid punch right into the centre of her nose- and she was out cold.

*****

**A/N:** If anyone's getting bored because Spinelli's the only character that's been mentioned heaps so far, don't worry- the others come in very soon. Please R&R!


	3. The Lies, The Guys, And The Surprise

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N: **A massively huge THANKS to all that reviewed- Peaches the First, political princess, Mistress of Balmoral, noelle, Jo (I actually do have a fanfic that has a hinting of that- he he…), and Clintronic Waldrop- to whom, by the way, yes. I did know about T.J.'s brother. I noticed that little quote a couple of months ago, and no, I'd never noticed it before either. I've seen every episode excluding the new DVD's, and it's very strange that they never ever mention him ever again. Funny though, I just can't picture T.J. with a big brother.

**A/N 2:** Here's another Recess fun fact- did you guys know that the name 'Randall' means 'relentless'? How appropriate!

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter three: The Lies, The Guys, And The Surprise**

"Man! That wasn't fair yesterday! No one said anything to me about any rules! Stupid lousy stinkin'…" Spinelli grumbled to herself as she walked miserably to school the next morning. She turned in to the schoolyard and spotted her friends standing by the bike racks.

"Hey guys!" Spinelli said in her best fake cheerful tone

"Hey Spin," T.J. answered as he put his bike away. "Where were you yesterd-"

T.J. and the rest of the gang gasped as they turned around to see their friend with an almost purple-coloured nose.

"Spinelli, what happened to you?!" Gus Griswold, the short, timid blonde boy with a crew cut asked as he and his other four friends rushed up to Spinelli.

"What? Oh, this?" Spinelli pointed to her nose innocently, "I just had an accident while riding home on my bike yesterday." She decided to answer T.J.'s question too. "I was in such a rush to get home yesterday to help my dad out with his car, that I wasn't watching where I was going. I nearly ran into a tree, but broke at the last minute. I guess I must've braced too hard, because I rammed my nose into the handlebars." Spinelli played her pre-planned lie as believably as possible.

"Oh cruel fate!" Mikey Blumberg, the gentle giant with messy blonde hair and a natural sense of poetry exclaimed dramatically to no one in particular, but threw his large hands into the sky. "Why must the world be filled with such hastening, that we must be inflicted with pain for punctuality?!"

"I'm _fine_ Mikey." Spinelli replied, irritated that she had no idea of what he was talking about. "And speakin' of punctuality, we'd better get to class before we all get tardies." Spinelli started to walk to the front doors of the school, and the others followed suit. All except T.J. 

He quickly grabbed Vince's shoulder and pulled him back and waited until Spinelli was out of ear shot until he said:

"Something's up Vince. I _saw_ Spinelli leave the school yesterday- she didn't even bring her bike to school!"

"So…you think she's lying about where she got the bruise from?" asked Vince

"I'll bet my entire collection of Senior Fusion comics on it, Vince."

"So what do we do? Should we tell the others?"

"No, not yet. Let's not bring anyone else into this- it could be personal." T.J. regretfully reminded himself of the time his mom had signed him up for Youth Group. One weekend T.J. was forced into a square-dancing lesson, and as a rather unfortunate result, had collided with one of the larger girl partners. He came to school on Monday with a shiner on his eye, and was not looking forward to explaining to his friends how he got it. However, when he got to school, rumours quickly spread about how he got the shiner, resulting in T.J. being acknowledged as a hero. Guilt of this false story and the gifts he got because of it finally got to him, and he confessed what really happened to the whole school. Fortunately for T.J., no one believed him, and they just laughed at it as a joke. T.J. didn't want Spinelli to go through the same trauma in regaling an embarrassing story, even if it was just to the rest of her friends.

"We'll confront her at recess today." T.J. said to Vince as they started to walk to class.

*~*~*

The bell rang for recess and a multitude of kids flocked out of the school rejoicing for their 20 minutes of freedom, much like ants flocking out of a kid's science experiment ant farm, rejoicing for their 20 minutes of freedom before they got stepped on, or eaten, or asphyxiated by mom's can of fly spray…

T.J. and Vince got out first before their other friends could catch up with them, and waited in the shadows of the outside stairs to ambush Spinelli.

Gretchen, Mikey and Gus walked out the doors and down the stairs, but none of them seemed to notice T.J. and Vince, as they kept walking onto the playground, probably off to look for them.

Then Spinelli slowly sauntered out of the doors. As she walked down the stairs, Kurst and Sue-Bob shoved past her and gave her a menacing smirk. Spinelli stared back at them in hate as she made her way off the stairs. T.J. and Vince decided to make their move, and grabbed Spinelli's arms, lifting her off the ground and carrying her over to behind the dumpster where they knew no one would see them.

"What the heck are you guys playin' at?!" Spinelli asked angrily as her two friends pinned her shoulders against the side of the dumpster.

"We wanna' know where you got that bruise from Spinelli!" demanded T.J.

"I told you guys, I hit it on the handlebars of my bike riding home from school yesterday!" answered Spinelli.

"Yeah right! We _know_ you didn't get it from there because you didn't even _ride_ your bike home yesterday!" added Vince.

"Come on Spinelli- out with it!" T.J. commanded sternly.

"You guys are crazy! Let me go!!" Spinelli said as she struggled to free herself from their pin-down. T.J. and Vince just pushed on her harder, and she had to admit- they were doing a pretty good job of keeping her there.

"Not until you 'fess up Spin!! Now just tell us the truth and we'll let you go." Said T.J.

Spinelli tried to free herself once again. But, when she realised they had her restrained, she gave up trying to get away and just looked at them and sighed.

"I can't…" Spinelli said as she looked down at the black concrete blacktop.

"What do you mean you can't?" Vince asked forcefully.

"Because! If I tell anyone I could get in a lot of trouble…" 

T.J. suddenly had a wave of concern flow through his mind.

"Spinelli, you're not having…_problems_…with your parents, are you?"

"What? Oh, no! It's nothing like _that!_ My parents would _never_ do _anything_ like that!"

"Good." T.J. answered, somewhat relieved his friend wasn't getting abused. 

"Well, if it's not that then what is it?" Vince asked again.

"I said I can't tell you! Now leave me alone, would ya'?!" Spinelli retorted, getting irritated that her friends wouldn't get off her back about the subject.

"Well Spinelli, I didn't want to have to do this, but….." T.J. rolled up his jacket sleeves and motioned for Vince to hold Spinelli down. T.J. pulled his hands back before…..

"No…..NO! Stop, _please!_ I can't take anymore! I'll tell, I'LL TELL!! Just stop TICKLING ME!!!" Spinelli pleaded throughout uncontainable outbursts of giggles, and T.J. finally stopped the torture technique.

Spinelli caught her breath as the boys resumed their restraining positions.

"Well?" Vince asked impatiently as they both looked to Spinelli for an explanation.

"Okay, okay." She said as she looked up at the two boys. They both stared, waiting, and Spinelli felt like T.J. was burning a hole right through her head with some sort of laser vision. She knew she couldn't lie to him- he could see right through her. Even if she did lie he'd know, and he'd never leave her alone until she told the truth.

"You guys both have to promise you won't tell _anyone_, and I mean absolutely NO ONE- not even our friends!"

"We promise." The boys chorused sincerely.

"Well, okay." Spinelli said hesitantly as she looked around to check no one was listening. She sighed and then said just loud enough for the boys to hear, "I joined a juvenile fighters' club….."

T.J. and Vince just stared at her as if to say _'so what?'_

Vince then said, "That's it?"

T.J. spoke up too, "Yeah Spinelli, what's so bad about that that you couldn't tell us?"

"You guys don't understand! It's meant to be a complete secret that only _fighters_ know about! You see, there's some legal issues that, if they got found out by the wrong person, could shut the place down- and probably send some of the kids off to juvi." Spinelli explained quietly to her two friends.

"Oh….." the boys replied in understanding. T.J. then asked, "So who gave you….." and silently finished his sentence by pointing at her nose.

Spinelli went half cross-eyed looking down at her nose, and then answered "Oh, that was from Kurst. Threw a punch when I wasn't ready- stupid lousy stinkin'….."

"So Kurst's a member of this fighter's club thingy too?" asked Vince interrupting Spinelli's cursings.

"Oh, yeah. And so are Skeens, Mundy, Sue-Bob, Jocko, Chewy, a couple of Freddie's henchmen, ex-king Bob, and Bradley and Eric." T.J. and Vince flinched at the names of the last two- remembering how cruelly the pair had beaten them up yesterday. Then T.J. got an idea.

"Hey Spinelli? Do you think that maybe Vince and I could, um…..come with you to this place this afternoon…?" He couldn't wait to see Bradley and Eric get their share of shiners.

"WHAT! No way!! Were you guys listening to what I just said?! It's meant to be a _secret_- as in I wasn't meant to tell anyone!! There is _no way_ you guys are coming this afternoon….."

*~*~*

Spinelli stood outside class that afternoon with her arms folded, and an irritable expression on her face, as she muttered to the two boys next to her:

"I can't_ believe_ you guys are coming this afternoon….."

*****

**A/N:** The next chapter will be longer- I _promise_! Please R&R!!!


	4. There's Something About Spinelli

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** Thankyou guys heaps for all your supportive reviews! Jo, political princess, Mistress of Balmoral, noelle, Quazimodo, and anyone who reviews after this- you guys ROCK!!!! 

**A/N 2: **I know this has nothing to do with anything, but man, I had one of the coolest dreams a few weeks ago- Pamela Segall, the voice artist for Spinelli, was a professional wrestler! And her wrestling costume? Yep, that's right- she was completely decked out in Spinelli's gear, only she had an orange eye mask on as well. It was SO cool! She even did the Flying Press! I think I was standing in the audience, and Pamela won, of course. I can't really remember, but I think her wrestling name _was_ actually 'Ashley Spinelli'- she was the spitting image too, just like a real life, grown up version of the little devil girl…..

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter four: There's Something About Spinelli**

"I _can't believe_ you guys are coming this afternoon…" Spinelli repeated irritably, as the bell for home time rang, and the ants- uh, I mean kids, rushed out of their nests- doh! I mean classrooms (stupid ant analogies…)

They departed school quickly, as Spinelli had done the previous day, to slip away from their other friends.

Before they knew it, Spinelli, T.J. and Vince were standing at the door of 6/66 Rosewood Drive.

"Just let me do the talkin', okay guys?" Spinelli said, still annoyed that they were here. Vince and T.J. had threatened to tell the entire school about the club if Spinelli didn't take them along with her this afternoon. They never would have really done it, but Spinelli couldn't take the chance of being hunted down by all the other kids from her school that were in the club. Anyway, if it hadn't been for T.J. and Vince, she wouldn't have even come back here- not after the embarrassing five-second defeat she suffered yesterday.

Unwillingly she knocked on the door. The slot opened again, but this time a much more whiny voice asked for the password. Spinelli reached in her pocket for the new card the bouncer had given her before she left yesterday.

"Whitewash" she said to the person behind the slot as he looked just behind her and asked suspiciously:

"Who are they?"

T.J. stepped up and said incautiously:

"We're her fr-- Ow!!" Spinelli had elbowed him in the side rather powerfully, as she tried to explain her friends' presences.

"They're- uhh…my…trainers? Yeah, that's it! My personal coaches…" It was the only excuse her indolent brain could think of in the short time she had to answer before T.J. or Vince blurted out the whole thing. Trainers were the only other people she knew of that were allowed in to watch the sessions besides the fighters themselves. 

"Oh, okay…" The whiny voiced kid opened the door and the three stepped inside. Vince glanced at him and chuckled. He looked even whinier than his voice predicted- he looked about 15, and had flat, oily, bleached white-blonde hair, insanely bad acne all over his face, and was quite tall and gangly. 

"Hey, I recognize you now," said the whiny guy pointing at Spinelli with an obnoxious grin spread across his face, "You're that 5 second knock-out chick from yesterday!" then he started laughing in that special type of laugh that only whiny, obnoxious people seem to have.

Spinelli moaned in disgrace of yesterday's events, as she grabbed the two boys' arms and started to pull them down the corridor. She obviously wasn't going to get shown where to go this time.

"Come on guys…" she said as she pulled them along, the two boys' grinning slightly, in spite of Spinelli's desperate attempt to keep up her 'tough girl' image in front of them.

*~*~*

When they finally reached the timber door, Spinelli opened it and went in first.

Just like the day before there was a big crowd of cheering and yelling kids standing around the ring. As Spinelli pulled T.J. and Vince through the crowd to a place where they could see, their reactions were somewhat similar to what hers was.

"Wow…" they both uttered in chorus as they looked up to the ring. One kid was being put in a headlock while trying to grab the head of the other kid. That kid was laughing and poking the other kid's nose. And all of this was being commentated in crystal surround sound.

"…and Komodo Dragoon continues to get taunted by Fort Fortify in the most bizarre example of a fight that I've _ever_ seen." The reviewer/referee said as he watched from inside the ring.

"Hey, it's Tyson again!" said Spinelli happily as she looked up at the guy playing umpire. Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder. About to smack it away, she turned around and stopped herself when she realised she knew who he was too.

"Hey thrasher!" said the 16 year old red-haired, freckle-faced boy cheerfully as he looked down at Spinelli with a smile.

"Hey, I know you- you're that bouncer from yesterday! Hey wait- why'd ya' call me thrasher?" asked Spinelli above the roaring teenagers around them.

"Well," he started as Vince and T.J. turned around from the fight to look at the boy talking to Spinelli "Number one, I don't know your name. Number two, it's the only thing I know you by. And number three, it's not a very commonly used nickname around here."

"Oh…_you_ didn't see the fight yesterday, did you?" she asked understandingly, before T.J. nudged her lightly in the rib.

"Oh yeah, these are my fr- uh…my trainers, T.J. and Vince," she said as she pointed to the two boys, who smiled uneasily at the older, larger boy. "Guys- this is- uh…" she said as she looked at the bouncer for an unasked answer.

"Jason. My name's Jason." He answered as he put out a hand for the boys to shake. "And _I_ didn't catch _your's_…" he said as he shook Vince's hand with one hand, and pointed at Spinelli with the other.

"Oh yeah- my name's Spinelli. Hey, thanks for showin' me in here yesterday- the jerk there now only made fun of me."

Jason's eyes went wide with some kind of disbelief as his jaw dropped open and he managed to utter out the words:

"Uhh- y-you're w-welcome." He pulled himself together and asked incredulously, "Did you say Spinelli?"

"Yeah," Spinelli asked, wondering what the big deal was with her last name. "Why, what about it?"

Jason asked again disbelievingly, as if he hadn't even heard her question "Wait- so, you're a Spinelli? As in, the little Ashley girl???"

Just before she was about to deck Jason for calling her an Ashley, a girl, _and_ little, she suddenly realized: "Hey wait- how'd you know my first name…?"

"Uhh…" he said, not quite believing who was standing in front of him "I think there's someone you oughtta' meet…" He motioned for her to follow as he weaved his way out of the crowd.

Spinelli confusedly followed, who was in turn followed by T.J. who also wanted to know about the fascination with the name 'Spinelli'. Vince however, stayed to watch the end of the fight- which was getting quite interesting.

The guy in the headlock was just screaming for mercy from the nose-poking torture, when a bell dinged twice, to symbolize the end of the second round.

The guy ran to his corner and sat down on his little chair panting, as a strangely familiar looking boy around 12 or 13 years old stood outside the ring talking to him.

"It's okay Tommy. You're a good fighter- you can do this!" he said encouragingly to the boy in corner of the ring.

"But Robbie- he's pummelling me out there!" countered the boy.

"_I_ don't wanna' hear you talkin' about the other guy winnin'!" said the black-haired coach assertively as he turned the boys head to face him. "_You_ are a good fighter. You just can't dance the dance, that's all. Your defensive skills are low, so you gotta' play the attack…" he said before the boy stood up, and the third round bell sounded.

"Robbie?" Vince said to himself as he looked at the familiar kid watching his fighter in the ring. "Wait a second…no way- King Bob?!"

As soon as he said the name the boy immediately turned his head and looked around to see who had said it. After he couldn't see who it was, he shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his tyro, who was now winning the match.

"Well I'll be," Vince thought to himself as he looked at Third Street's past king with amazement. "Bob always was good at getting kids to do what he told 'em…"

*~*~*

Spinelli and T.J. walked swiftly behind the burly boy called Jason, out of the room with the hollering teenagers and into the dark corridor they came in from. But instead of going back up the aisle the way they came, they went the other way, down a flat, shady passageway, which seemed to get darker as they walked along. It got so dim that T.J. and Spinelli nearly collided with each other as they turned a corner.

"Sorry…" they both apologized sheepishly as they looked the other way from each other, slightly blushing in the cheeks. Jason looked around and smiled slightly at the childlike bashfulness of the two, before stopping in front of a wooden door. The two kids nearly ran into Jason _again_ from the abrupt stop, but then looked up at him as he hesitantly knocked on the door three times.

Almost immediately there was an answer:

"Enter Tyzack!" was the unemotional response they got, as Jason pushed the door open and slowly stepped in, followed immediately by T.J., and then Spinelli, who was wondering why the name Tyzack sounded so familiar to her…

            The room they walked into was quite small, looking sort of like a den- as it had a wooden desk in the centre of the room, a small filing cabinet against the left wall, and assorted trophies, posters and photos covering the right. The only thing that made the room different to a normal house's study room was the punching bag in the right corner, the small television against the back wall, and the person sitting in the swivel chair watching it. The chair had a tall back, so the only thing they could see of the person was their legs lying on the table in front of them.

            "Um…" Jason started uneasily, as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt "Sorry to bother you, but there's someone here that I thought you ought to know about…"

            "Oh yeah? And _who_ would that be?" the voice from behind the chair asked a bit uninterestedly.

            "Well, uh…well," Jason said nervously as he looked down at Spinelli warmly. "Ashley Spinelli's here."

            Suddenly the feet came off the desk and slammed down on the floor.

            "Ashley…?" the voice said quietly, as the chair turned around slowly, and the person in it stood up, with a staggered expression on his tanned face, as and a disbelieving look in his dark eyes.

            "No _way_…" said Spinelli in awe, not believing who was standing in front of her…

*****

**A/N:** Not like it's really that hard to guess who it is…or maybe it is…oh well- please R&R!


	5. Oh Brother, Here Art Thou

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** Thanks heaps for all your reviews! A big thanks to Mistress of Balmoral, noelle, Quazimodo, Clintronic Waldrop, and a huge double kudos to political princess for a) reviewing chapter four three times, and b) for the last two chapters, reviewing within the first twenty minutes of their posting up! You all rock!!! 

A lot of you half guessed who the person was right. You could probably tell as soon as you read the chapter title. But you _were _wrong. It's not Joey, it's…

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter five: Oh Brother, Here Art Thou**

            "VITTO!?!" exclaimed Spinelli in half incredulity, half happiness, as she looked at the strapping male figure that was her older brother, Vitto Spinelli.

            "Ashley, what are you _doing_ here?!" asked Vitto in shock of seeing his little sister in _this_ place.

            "I was just gonna' ask _you_ the same question!" asked Spinelli, completely ignoring the fact that he'd called her Ashley.

            "Well, you see Ash," he started as he walked over to his sister "I _own_ this society."

            Spinelli (the Ashley one, that is) was taken aback.

            "B-B-But how? When? W-What…?" she said completely dumbfounded, as she walked over and looked up at her brother.

            Vitto sighed as he walked back over to his chair and sat down.

            "You see Ash," Vitto said, looking over at his sister, "The Seventh Heaven Society was created by your big brother."

            "But _you're_ my-" Spinelli stopped in her sentence, and realised what Vitto was really saying here. "You don't mean…"

            "Yeah Ash." Vitto replied. "Before he was arrested, Joey created the Seventh Heaven Juvenile Fighters' Society."

            "What? But why didn't you guys tell me about it…?" Spinelli asked, sounding slightly hurt.

            "Ash, you were only seven! We weren't gonna' tell a little first grader about a club where guys bash each other up for fun! What if you'd followed one of us and found it? What kind of affect would that have on a little 7-year-old girl?"

            "Well it didn't stop me from finding it, did it? And besides, I doubt I would've turned out much different…"

            Vitto looked at his little sister, with her lavender coloured nose of which the swelling finally seemed to be going down, so it didn't look so much like a dodge ball with nostrils- more like a slightly flat dodge ball with nostrils…

            "Yeah…" he replied slowly, "You're probably right. But you know, me and Joey didn't want you to get hurt or nothin'. I know you can defend yourself _now_, but you were a lot smaller back then- you were just a little kid. We were just lookin' out for you…"

            "Yeah, I guess I can understand that," answered Spinelli. "So…Joey made this club then?"

            "Yep. When he was 17, Joey and his gang back then were really into street fighting, so they tried to join a boxing club, but got kicked out for being 'too violent'."

            "Wow, that's harsh." Commented T.J., speaking up for the first time since they'd entered the room.

            "Yeah I know," answered Vitto abstractedly, looking at T.J. askance. "Uh, who are you anyway?"

            "Who me? Oh, I'm Spin- I mean Ash- uh…I mean your sister's frie- um…I mean trainer…" answered T.J. nervously. Vitto snorted at the thought, and asked Spinelli:

            "You're kidding me, right? This…" he looked over at T.J. and searched for the right word, "…doofus…is training _you_??"

            "Well…sort of…" Spinelli answered uneasily, still afraid she might get in trouble for bringing outsiders to the society. "He's more like a training partner. You know, someone I try out my new moves on- sort of like a crash test dummy!"

            "Oh, right!" Vitto replied understandably. T.J. looked considerably offended, what with his friend comparing him to a daredevil mannequin, and her brother calling him a doofus, so he quickly tried to change the subject off himself.

            "So um, Vitto- what were you saying about your brother?"

            "Oh yeah," replied Vitto, realising he was going off the subject. "Anyway, as I was sayin', when Joey and his friends got kicked out of the boxing club, they just started fightin' in the street alleys by their houses- but the cops kept comin' up and bustin' them for public violence. Joey didn't know what to do, until one day he noticed that no one ever seemed to use the basement section of the apartment block he was livin' in. When he went down there to check it out, he found out how big it was, and well, the idea just spread from there. Joey and his friends set regular times they'd meet to fight, and of course no one would ever see or hear 'em fightin' 'coz they were in a concrete soundproof underground room. But soon enough they got sick of just fightin' each other, so they started invitin' other kids their age to come and fight- the only catch was that they couldn't tell anyone else, in case they got in trouble. Anyway, soon enough they'd invited a fair few kids, and the numbers kept getting' bigger each week, so Joey decided that, to get some money for proper equipment, he'd hold a regular play-off event and charge admission- that's where the tournament idea came from. But then a few years ago, Joey got busted for that grand theft-auto crime, and got put in the slammer. The place nearly fell apart- that is, until _I_ took up Joey's ownership." At that point Vitto picked up a framed photograph off one of the shelves and smiled slightly.

            T.J. peeked over Vitto's shoulder and looked at the photograph. The picture had three kids in it- the boy on the left had unkempt, shaggy dark brown hair and looked about nine years old; the boy on the right had spiky jet-black hair and looked about fourteen; and the little girl in the middle had the same coloured raven-black hair, and looked no older than four years of age. All three of them were smiling, and the two boys had their arms around the girl in the middle, of who had her tiny arms as much as she could around them.

            It took T.J. until then to actually recognize the two younger kids in the photo as the two Spinellis in the room. '_The older one must be Joey'_ T.J. thought to himself. _'Boy, they all look so cute and harmless…'_

            Vitto suddenly turned his head to see T.J.'s peeking over his shoulder. He abruptly slammed the photo down onto the desk and growled at T.J., who accordingly backed away to hide behind the smaller Spinelli. This only resulted in a deathly stare and more growling being shot at T.J. by _both_ Spinellis, so he just recoiled and moved over to behind Jason- for protection from the Italian brother & sister.

            Vitto rolled his eyes as Jason pretended to check his watch.

            "Oh, look at the time! We'd better be getting back to the fight- well Vitto, guess I'll be seein' ya'." Jason said nervously backing out the door, pushing T.J. along behind him.

            "Yeah whatever. Hey Ash, it was good to see you again- come see me tomorrow so we can catch up and stuff…" Vitto called to his little sister as she followed the other two out the door.

            "Yeah, that'd be great." She answered back, before remembering she wasn't planning on coming back here ever again after today.

            "Oh great." Spinelli mumbled to herself as she shut the door behind her and went to follow Jason and T.J. "Now I have to come back again _tomorrow_ as well! Stupid lousy stinkin'…"

            Although she really did hate the idea of coming back to this place of humiliating memories, she was glad that it would give her and Vitto the chance to catch up- after all, it had been nearly a year since her second oldest brother had moved out of their parents house and into his own apartment across town, and in that time they'd talked for somewhat of the lesser part of ten minutes. Although that wasn't entirely Vitto's fault- a 15 year old moving into their own place doesn't exactly come off with much less than unreserved objections from their parents- if Ashley was in Vitto's shoes she would try to keep as much distance between herself and her parents too.

            Just as Spinelli caught up to the two freckle-faced boys in front of her, they opened the door to re-enter the room flooding with roaring teenagers.

*~*~*

            The three of them once again pushed their way though to the front of the crowd of bellowing kids, as T.J. and Spinelli heard a voice from behind call them.

            "Hey guys," Vince said, happily greeting his friends back, "you were gone for a while- who were you meeting?"

            "You'll never guess Vince-" answered T.J. quickly, unintentionally interrupting Spinelli, who was about to answer: "Spin's big brother is the owner of this place!"

            "Seriously?" asked Vince excitedly, looking over at his raven-haired friend with a newfound respect. "Wow, that's pretty tender!"

            "Yeah, I guess so." Spinelli answered indifferently as she turned her attention to the ring, where a fight was just finishing.

            The crowd of teenagers yelled and cheered as the winner was announced, and then jumped out of the platform. Tyson called out into the audience for new contestants, as an idea dawned on Jason:

            "Hey Ashley- why don't you get in the ring? Show me your stuff!"

            "Are you insane?!" retorted Spinelli, disregarding the name Jason had called her, "I can't go back up there! Not after the humiliating performance I gave yesterday!!!"

            "Oh, come on Spin!" T.J. egged on in encouragement.

            "Yeah, how're you ever gonna' get any better if you don't face your fears and fight???" Vince argued as the three boys started to push her over to the ring.

            "No guys wait! I don't wanna'-"

            "Well, it looks like we have another contestant!" Tyson announced as he looked down at Spinelli from the ring. He put out a hand and lifted her into the fight arena, and then took the mike away from his mouth as he said to her quietly- "I admire your courage, devil girl- it'd take a lotta' guts to come back here after what happened yesterday…" Tyson then spoke into the microphone again- "Ladies and gentlemen- give it up for La Niiiiiiiiinaaaaaaaaaaaa Diiiiiaaaaaabloooooooooooo!!!!!"

            Spinelli's face went the same colour as her tomato-red T-shirt dress, as the entire audience, bar T.J., Vince, Jason and Tyson, began to crack up laughing, pointing at her and snickering in remembrance of her pathetic 5-second performance yesterday. She looked away from all the laughing teenagers to try and hide her shame, when she suddenly saw the other person who had offered to fight, standing in the corner of the ring across from her.

            "Ah ha ha!!! Back again little Ashley???" Kristen Kurst taunted Spinelli.

            "Hey shut up!!! Yesterday was an unfair fluke and you know it!!!" Spinelli retorted angrily.

            "Whatever you'd like to believe- but we both know you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag!!!" Kurst teased.

            As the crowd finally began to stop laughing, Spinelli clenched her fists in resentment, and Tyson walked over to the two girls ready to fight.

            "Okay you two- you know the rules--"

            "WAAAAIT!!!" Spinelli interrupted Tyson abruptly, as the audience quietened suddenly and stared at her. "First things first- what _are_ the rules?!?"

            "Huh?" Tyson said, a little startled by Spinelli's sudden yelling. "Oh, the rules? They're umm…well, there aren't really many rules- just that if you go down, we use the 10-second rule- you're counted out and you're out. You can pretty much use any fighting medium you like, but you can't use foreign objects- that includes boxing gloves. Besides that, there really aren't any rules as to how you fight…"

            Spinelli's face reddened a shade darker, not of embarrassment- but this time of rage…

            "You mean to say," she started, holding in her anger as best she could, "that I got knocked out yesterday trying to find out what the rules were…and there are none???"

            "Guess so." Tyson replied as he quickly stepped back from the two girls and raised a hand in the air, just before a bell sounded through the air, triggering the teenage audience to start cheering and yelling for the fight which was about to begin.

            Spinelli's eyes shot back to Kurst, who had immediately reared back a fist, which was now flying straight for Spinelli's face. The smaller girl instinctively shot her arms up over her head to protect her face, resulting in Kaptain Krusher belting La Nina Diablo in the side of the arm.

            Spinelli whimpered slightly in pain, before looking back up at the pugnacious redhead with a glare of complete fury. Almost instantly she pulled a fist back and downward, and then flew it back up to connect with the underlay of Kurst's chin- carrying out a perfect uppercut. The evidently powerful blow sent Kurst flying into the air, crashing back down on the other side of the ring.

            The entire audience was suddenly silent, as Tyson slowly walked over to where Kurst lay and started counting out the 10-second rule.

            "…8…9…10! Kaptain Krusher is out- La Nina Diablo…is the winner?" Tyson announced a little incredulously, as the audience just stared, stunned at how incredibly formidable that punch must have been to knock a girl of Kurst's large size all the way across the ring.

            Even T.J. and Vince stood in shock of their friend's strength for a couple of seconds, before finally snapping out of it, and cheering their brains out. The rest of the audience followed suit, and began to applaud and cheer for Spinelli- who just stood there, disbelief painted across her face, as she looked down at the bulky figure she had just knocked out.

            Tyson walked over to grab her arm and lift it up, signifying the winner of the fight. As he held her arm up, he leant over and said,

            "Way to go devil girl- I knew you had it in you! You're really living up to your last name now!"

            Spinelli looked up at Tyson and blushed from the praise, and then looked out into the cheering audience, and grinned.

            This place was starting to grow on her…

*****

**A/N:** Of course, all good Recess fans know Vitto as the older brother of Spinelli who gave her the boots she always wears in the episode 'Prince Randall'. For everyone else, you know now. Please R&R!


	6. To Dance The Dance

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

A/N: Thanks to political princess, Jo49, noelle (don't expect anything incredibly romantic, after all this is an _action/adventure_ fanfic, but there will however be subtle hints, some of which are in this chappie…), Felinefire82 (okay, I actually haven't seen fight club, but I know the basic concept and yeah, I could see how this fic is similar- I really didn't mean to rip off anything if you saw that), Mistress of Balmoral (I haven't actually seen that movie either, but it sounds good- I'll have to check it out!), Clintronic Waldrop (no, they've never actually even mentioned Joey or Vitto outside two episodes, so they never really say which is older. I'm presuming Joey, because he's incarcerated and would therefore have to be at least 21), and anyone else who might happen to review between now and when this chapter posts. YOU ALL ROCK!!! Oh and just a note, I'm sorry if posts get even slower, but I'm finally back at school (NOOOOOO!!!!!) and I've been told this year's gonna' be A LOT of work (hopefully not…). But never fear, in any spare time I have, I'll be working hard to bring you more!

And by the way- it seems a lot of you forgot about Vitto's existence! Well, at least it's revived now!

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter six: To Dance The Dance**

            Five o'clock rolled around all too quickly for Spinelli, who was really beginning to enjoy herself at the Seventh Heaven Society, as were the two tag-alongs she'd unwillingly had to bring along- T.J. and Vince. 

After Spinelli's unexpected victory, the three of them watched the rest of the fights right up until the 5pm closing time. They then started to walk home, still talking about the afternoon's events, when Vince turned the subject matter from past to future matters.

"So Spin- you'd better start trainin' up for Friday next week, huh?"

"Oh yeah, Friday week…what's Friday week?"

"Duh- the tourney???"

Spinelli looked over at him for a second, before realising he wasn't kidding.

"You gotta' be kiddin' me Vince! I'm not enterin' the tourney- I'd get whomped!!!"

"What are you talking about Spin?!" replied T.J., "You kicked butt there today- that was the best dang uppercut I've ever seen!"

"You guys- that was Kurst. She's twelve. Most of the guys there looked street-bred and older than thirteen- I'll bet some of the guys there even shave! I'm ten- I'm not even classed as a _pre_-teen. They'll clobber me 'til there's nothin' left but a bloody, bruised little ten-year-old pulp!!!"

"And that's exactly why you've gotta' start training Spin!" replied Vince, "Between me as your coach and Teej as your training partner, you'll be ready in no time!"

"Hey, how'd _you_ know I called him my training partner?" Spinelli inquired, remembering she'd only named T.J. that when they went to see Vitto.

"I was talkin' to Jason after you won the match. That's how I found out about the tourney next Friday- and that _you're_ apparently Spinelli's personal punching bag…" Vince answered, glancing down at T.J. for the last part of the sentence. T.J. suddenly had a wave of realisation surge through his brain.

"Wait Spin- you're not _actually_ gonna' be trying out fighting moves on me…are you???"

"Of course she is!" Vince answered before Spinelli had a chance to, "How else is she gonna' know if they work or not?"

"Wait, wait, wait-" Spinelli interjected, "Nobody said I was gonna' be doin' any training in the first place- except _you_," she said, pointing accusingly at Vince, "And _you_ don't decide what I do or don't do- and this is one thing I am _not_ doing!"

"But Spinelli!" Vince whined, "Think about this, would you? Think about the money- think about the fame-"

"Think about your brother!" T.J. interrupted as Spinelli turned to look at him questioningly.

"My brother? What does Vitto have to do with this?"

"Well, think about it Spin. Joey founded this club and its traditions, and then it was passed down- well, sort of- to Vitto. Think about how disappointed he'd be if he knew you didn't wanna' be a part of that!"

"But you heard him before- he didn't even want me to find this place! I doubt he'll want me fighting guys one and a half times my age in a major tournament!" Spinelli argued back.

"Come off it Spinelli, you know he was happy to see you once he got used to the idea that you're old enough to look after yourself!" T.J. retorted doggedly.

"Well, yeah, but- oh, I don't know…" Spinelli hesitated in her words, as she looked from T.J. to Vince, both boys of who had forthright persuasive grins spread across their mouths.

"Come on Spinelli," prodded T.J. slickly, "Why do you always have to be so stubborn about these things you know you really wanna' do???"

"I am _not_ stubborn!!!" Spinelli snapped aggressively as she stopped walking to stare T.J. right in the eyes with a pugnacious glare, which was returned right back at her by the receiver. Vince checked his watch and yawned as he waited for the inevitable.

"Aww jeez!!! I hate it when you guys do this to me!" Spinelli yelled angrily as she broke the glaring contest with T.J., which she had obviously lost- and not for the first time in her life. That voice-of-justice boy was just too influential…

"FINE THEN!!! I'll enter the _stupid_ tourney!!! I'll get smushed into a gazillion _stupid_ pieces!!! And I'll probably die a painful and humiliating _stupid_ death!!! But when I die, YOU two are going to be paying for my funeral- got it?!?"

Vince and T.J. just stood with their arms folded, grinning victoriously. The three of them stood on the corner of 3rd Street and Maple Drive, as the two boys answered:

"Got it…"

The sun slowly drowned into the darkening horizon, as the streetlights flickered on down the pathways of the neighbourhood streets, casting elongated shadows behind three kids ambling slowly home, still talking about the upcoming events, and what they were doing to prepare for them.

"So Spinelli," Vince started, still smiling from having convinced his stubborn friend to enter in the tourney, "Today's Tuesday, and the tourney starts next Friday. So, I think we should start training you as soon as humanly possible- i.e. now!"

"Whoa, whoa- y_ou_ guys are gonna' train _me_???" asked Spinelli disbelievingly to her two friends walking beside her.

            "Well..." answered Vince, secretly smirking at T.J. with a sideways glance, "you could say that..."

*~*~*

            "I did _not_ agree to this Vince!" T.J. complained angrily as he stood in the middle of the La Salle living room.

            "Yeah Vince! This has _nothing_ to do with fighting! How's this supposed to help train me for the tourney?!" Spinelli joined in complaining as she stood next to T.J., not very impressed with the line of 'training' Vince had in store for her.

            "Spin- I'm just gonna' come right out and say it- you whomp at defence!" answered Vince. "I mean, face it- when it comes to movin' out of the way, you're slower than T.J.'s pencil in a maths test…"

            "Hey!" T.J. and Spinelli snapped simultaneously in response to Vince's comment.

            "Well like it or not it's true- yes, that's right- both of you." replied Vince sternly. "Look Spin, just playin' the attack is all right for the casual meetings, but in the tourney, you're gonna' be playin' with the big boys- if you can't handle a little defending, you're gonna' get your butt kicked- possibly literally!" Vince paced back and forth in front of Spinelli as he spoke, "You just don't know how to dance the dance. And this, my friend," He smiled as he put his hand on T.J.'s shoulder, "Is where you learn how..."

            Vince walked over to the edge of the room and pulled a record off of one of the shelves. He blew the dust off the cover to reveal the words _'Swingin' Tunes'_, smiled, and slipped the record out of its case and put it in the player. He switched it on and pulled the needle down onto the album's scratchy black surface. Scratchy music started to sound out of the speakers and into the living room, as T.J. and Spinelli both glanced at each other with uneasy looks.

            "Um, Vince, when people say you can't 'dance the dance', they don't mean that you actually can't _dance_- it's just boxer lingo!" Spinelli explained to Vince.

            "Look guys, just trust me, okay? This _will_ help." Vince replied with a knowing grin.

            He moved into the middle of the floor and looked at Spinelli.

            "Okay. This is called a swing dance. It's a very fast moving, action-involving dance- this will help you with making fast, defensive getaways from your opponents." Vince then pulled T.J. and Spinelli into the middle of the floor. "What I want you to do is learn the moves from this dance that'll help you in your fight- and I want you to practice them," Vince then glanced to T.J. and grinned, "On him..."

            "What!" cried T.J. fretfully. "Why do I have to dance with her- why can't _you_ do it?!"

            "Oh but T.J.," answered Vince with a smirk, "we all know that _you're_ the best crash test dummy for this job!"

            T.J.'s face went almost red with annoyance and anger, and looked like he was about to explode, when Spinelli put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back, as she asked Vince:

            "And what are _you_ going to be doing to help?"

            Vince looked at Spinelli and smiled. "Who'dya' think's gonna' be teachin' you the moves...?"

*~*~*

            "...And one, two three, one, two three…" Vince counted the steps as he danced _'The Charleston'_ with his imaginary partner. He suddenly stopped and turned around to face his two friends watching him. "Okay, now you two try."

            T.J. and Spinelli glanced at each other uneasily, and then both looked sheepishly in the other direction.

            "Oh come on you guys," nagged Vince, "don't tell me you're shy of dancin' with each other! Oh please- you're close friends, you've known each other since before Kindergarten, for Pete's sakes- you've even kissed each other! And now you're tellin' me you're shy about doing one little dance together???"

            Vince immediately knew he had said the wrong thing when he received the two most fury-filled death stares he had ever seen in his life. He should've known better than to bring up 'the experiment'...

            "Do you know," Spinelli said in an unusually calm voice as she walked up to face Vince, "what _I_ think the best way to learn how to fight better is...?"

            "U-Umm..." Vince stuttered nervously as he backed against the wall.

            "No? Well, the answer..." Spinelli said softly, until- "is FIGHT!!!"

            With that, Spinelli threw a punch right at Vince's face. He, on the other hand, had different plans.

            Vince ducked out of the way of the punch, before diving underneath Spinelli's legs, and standing up on the other side of her. Before Spinelli could even think to turn around, Vince pinned her face-on to the wall, holding her down in a way which immobilized both her arms and her legs against any attempt of attack.

            "And _that_," replied Vince in a quiet, I-told-you-so tone, "is what _I_ think the best way is."

            Vince released Spinelli from against the wall, and she brushed off her jacket, before looking back over at the two boys with a red face.

            "Okay fine- I'll learn your stupid dance moves- but only 'coz I wanna' kick the other guys' butts!"

            "Oh no," replied Vince with an intentional grin, "you're gonna' have to do better than that. Give me your word you'll co-operate with _all_ my training techniques from now on- I don't wanna' haveta' go through this _every_ time we train."

            "What?! What else are you planning to do to me?!" asked Spinelli.

            "Look- do you want a trainer or not? You're just gonna' haveta' trust me with this Spin."

            Spinelli glared at him for a moment, but then just looked down at her boots defeatedly.

            "Okay, fine- do your worst. I don't care."

            Vince grinned triumphantly, and then walked back over to beside the record player, lifting up the needle and placing it back down further up to restart the song. He then turned around to face his other two friends, currently glaring at him with light resentment.

            "Okay guys- now just do exactly what I showed you." The music started once again blaring out the fuzzy speakers, as T.J. and Spinelli suddenly looked at each other cluelessly.

            "Well? What are you guys waiting for? Take position!" Vince ordered as T.J. and Spinelli groaned simultaneously. Reluctantly, they took each other's hands, pulling disgusted faces as if it was the worst form of torture in the world.

            "Okay now, come in on the chorus." Vince instructed as the verse of the catchy music played out, leading them quickly into the chorus.

            T.J. and Spinelli swiftly struggled to get all the moves in with the fast paced timing, and soon enough found themselves to be quite hopeless at it. Especially one move, in which the two dancers were supposedly meant to spin out from each other, holding one hand onto the other person until they stretched out completely, then roll back in. In this case the result turned out quite different, as Spinelli and T.J. spun out from each other quite well, until they reached the stretching out part, where they sort of, _forgot_, to hold onto the other person's hand, leaving them tumbling backwards to land on opposite ends of the living room floor- T.J. tumbling back on his stomach and Spinelli flat on her back.

            Vince took the needle off the player, before strolling over to stand over the top of Spinelli, shaking his head and sighing.

            "We've got a _looooong_ way to go..."

*~*~*

            T.J. and Spinelli both stood shivering and chattering their teeth furiously, as they stood in the middle of the freezer of Kelso's corner shop, wearing nothing but their swimming costumes.

            "I-I-I do N-N-NOT see why I-I-I have to be doing this t-t-too!!!" T.J. complained as he rubbed his arms in a hopeless attempt to warm himself up. "_I_ n-n-never agreed to f-follow your psychotic 'training' t-t-techniques!!!"

            "Come on Teej! You're Spin's loyal training partner- you have to do it as long as she does! Everything she goes through, you go through too!" Vince answered back as he rubbed his gloved hands together, wearing a thick snow jacket, beanie and long pants.

            "May I-I-I politely ask," Spinelli started as she desperately tried to stop her teeth from chattering, "H-h-how the HELL this is s-s-supposed to help???"

            "Well you see Spin- you have to learn to fight in all different kinds of conditions, so you can be at optimum performance no matter what happens." Vince replied frankly.

            "I understand t-t-that," retorted Spinelli, "But d-d-don't you think this i-is a t-tad- oh I dunno'...INSANE???"

            "Of course not!" rejoined Vince, "Look- you _promised_ to follow my training orders- are you gonna' start breakin' your promise on me?"

            "Well n-n-no, but-"

            "Good!" Vince interrupted before Spinelli could complain any more. "Now, this is simple. All I want you guys to do is try to beat each other up!"

            "Oh, fun fun!" T.J. replied sarcastically as he looked fearfully over at the much stronger girl shivering next to him.

            "Alright then- go on my whistle- are you guys ready?" Vince asked the freezing pair.

            "N-N-No!!" They answered in chorus.

            "Great!" replied Vince quickly, before sharply blowing his whistle.

            T.J. and Spinelli faced each other, and neither of them moved for a while- too cold and confused to do anything. Finally, Spinelli stepped towards T.J., pulling back a shivering fist and aiming for the eye which already had a mark of discoloration around it. It very pathetically and lightly connected, but it was enough to make both of them yelp and bend over in pain- T.J. from having something touch the bruised area, and Spinelli from having connecting with something with her freezing cold fists, which were now starting to ache fiercely.

            Vince watched his two friends in swimsuits shiver and recoil in pain, and slapped his forehead- suddenly realizing that was a mistake, as the immense coldness made it sting, making him yelp in pain along with his friends.

"Okay then," Vince said once the cold sting of the slap had subsided a little, "I think that'll do it for tonight…"

*****

**A/N:** If you're finding some of these chappies boring, you have my sincerest apologies- things will (hopefully) seem more interesting soon! Please R&R! PLEEEEASE!!! Okay, sounding a bit desperate…


	7. Crude Awakening

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** My usual thankyous to all reviewers: political princess, Mistress of Balmoral, and Quazimodo. By the way, if anyone can be bothered (which by all means, you probably can't…and I don't really blame you), I do have some original poems over at fictionpress.com- just type 'goofy monkey child' in the 'search' thingy, then I think I'm about match number 140 (weird, you type the _exact_ thing and it's only number 140…). But if you do this (which in all honesty, I don't expect any of you to), _don't_ read the original fiction called 'Watching Flame Shadows'. It's based on a Recess fanfic which I'm gonna' put up eventually. So if you want to wait to read the lengthened Recess version, don't read that story (Not like anyone will read anything else _anyway_…). But heading back to what I _should_ be talking about, here's the next chappie of these words I call a fanfic…

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter seven: Crude Awakening**

The first rays of the morning dawn flooded through the crack in the curtain, showering delicate emissions of sunlight into the bedroom, making it's contents come alight with morning colour, and come alive with the natural light.

Spinelli drooled unknowingly as she lay on her stomach, her right arm and right leg both precariously hanging off one side of her bed, with her sheets chaotically screwed up all over her bed and floor- making the situation look quite like someone had tried to trash the young girl's room, without regarding that she was actually still _in_ the bed.

A soft crunching sound filled the raven-haired girl's ears, and she wondered absently what the annoying noise was that was keeping her from sleeping soundly. She groggily opened her eyes and rubbed them, looking to the spot where the noise was coming from down near the end of her bed.

T.J. and Vince were standing at the foot of her bed, nonchalantly eating dry cereal out of a box, just looking at her.

Spinelli sat for at least 5 minutes before this situation sunk in.

On the sixth minute, it did.

"AAGH!!! What are you guys doing in my ROOM?!?" Spinelli yelled as she pulled her sheets up over her sky-blue pyjamas, staring at the two already dressed boys in shock.

"Eating." Vince answered simply, digging his hand into the box yet again.

"No duh captainOBVIOUS!!!" Spinelli retorted irritably, still a little tired from being awoken by the unexpected visitors. "I meant how did you guys get _in_?!?"

"Oh, your mom let us in!" T.J. answered frankly as he shovelled another handful of the crunchy dry cereal into his mouth. He then continued, unintentionally spitting bits of pre-chewed breakfast cereal all over the foot of Spinelli's bed, "She gave us some Frosties!" T.J. said, brandishing the box in his hand.

"Uugh!!!" Spinelli moaned tetchily as she put her forehead in her hands, "What are you guys _doing_ here???"

T.J. smiled as he answered, "Watching you sleep- you're weird…"

"_I'm_ weird?!?" Spinelli bellowed as she leapt to the other end of her bed, seizing the collar of T.J.'s shirt to yell in his face, "_I'm_ not the one breaking into people's rooms to perv on them _sleeping_!!!"

"We're not perving!" Vince interjected matter-of-factly, "And we did not break in- we already told you your _mom_ let us in here!"

Spinelli sighed frustratedly as she gradually let go of T.J.'s shirt, the latter of who then quickly backed away from the perturbed little Italian.

"Look-" Spinelli said very slowly, as if trying to compress her anger down inside her, and any word she said could have made it come pouring out of her like a huge volcanic eruption, "What…do…you…guys…WANT?!?"

"Oh!" Vince answered, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to have forgotten the reason of why they were standing in their friend's bedroom in the early hours of the morning, "We're here to continue your training!"

"Training…?" Spinelli said sleepily as she leant back to the head of the bed again, and then glanced at the glowing digital clock on her bedside table. The digits '5:30' gradually worked their way into her mind. "It's…freaking…five…THIRTY!!! What kind of lunatic FREAK is up at this sacrilegious hour TRAINING?!?"

Vince started, "Well…actually _I _did track training earlier than- wait- _lunatic_?!"

"Vince is _not_ a lunatic!" T.J. defended

"Fine, if it makes you feel any better- you're _both_ lunatics!!!" Spinelli retorted as she wrenched her sheets up over her head and laid down, concealing herself from the two intrusive boys.

"But Spinelli- you made a promise to let me train you!" Vince griped. A muffled answer came from under the sheets, which sounded suspiciously like the words 'screw you'. T.J. sighed, before suddenly being struck with an idea.

"Well _Vince_," he said in an undefinable tone, "It looks like Spinelli wants to do her fight training here!"

Vince looked at T.J. funnily for a moment, before getting his drift. "So it does! Well, where do you suggest we start???"

T.J. looked down at the lump under the sheets and grinned mischievously. "Well…how about me and Spin just practice open-slather??? I've always wanted to give someone a nipple cripple…"

Suddenly there was a small flinch from under the sheets. Then someone's subdued voice:

"…You wouldn't dare…"

T.J. crouched down close to the bed, and said in a low, inauspicious voice, "You wanna' try me???"

The sheets flung down in an instant, and an aggravated-looking Spinelli sat up, glaring at T.J. with a look so cutting it could have sliced five zillion steel monster trucks like melted butter, melted so much that it became liquid, then evaporated, then condensated, then solidified so it could be sliced up again like…well, yeah like butter.

"There you go!" replied T.J. with a grin, "There's your new battle face! Flash that before a fight and no one'll _dare_ take you on!"

*~*~*

In the early hours of a humid Wednesday morning, three young kids made their way down the footpath of Third Street- one riding on a pushbike, and two on their feet, following the first.

As Vince pedalled forward on his bike, he sung back like an army sergeant to Spinelli jogging behind him, the military tune of 'Sound Off':

"I don't know what I've been told,"

Spinelli then angrily continued the next stanza: 

"Vince and Teej are mighty cold…"

T.J., while running backwards next to her, grinned at Spinelli and chanted the next line, "I don't know all that's been said,"

Spinelli took the final line of the verse before the chorus, "Vince and Teej will soon be dead…"

"Sound off," called Vince

"Screw you…" replied Spinelli

"I said sound off!" shouted T.J.

"And I said screw you!!!" yelled Spinelli. "Come on guys- I'm tired, can't we take a break?"

"Ooh, look at me, I'm little baby Spinelli!" T.J. mimicked in a girly, babyish voice, "I'm all sleepy and cranky because the big meanies Vince and T.J. woke me from my beauty sleep! Boo hoo! And now they're making me run places which is bad because I might break a nail and- OW!!!"

T.J. clutched his arm in pain, after being struck with a dynamic side-jab.

"Thatta' girl Spin!" Commented Vince. "Keep up that fistful of energy!"

Spinelli looked to Vince crossly, muttering, "I'll give_ you _a fistful of energy…"

*~*~*

The trio soon arrived in front of a familiar looking establishment, as Spinelli scanned over the dawn-lit building in confusion.

"Uhh guys? School doesn't start for another two and a half hours…" she said, as the three of them walked past the concrete plaque emblazoned with the words 'Third Street Elementary'.

"We're not here to learn, Spinelli…" Vince stated as they walked through the empty, desolate staff car park located down the side of the building. The tall, dark-skinned boy led the way past the school, onto the playground, and over to the memorable playground equipment.

"Then what _are_ we doing here??" asked Spinelli doubtfully.

Vince looked over the playground apparatus, inspecting every piece of equipment meticulously, to make sure he could use them to the very best of their capabilities. Once he was happy with all he saw, he turned around, looked to Spinelli, and grinned.

"We're here- to work…" 

*~*~*

A trickle of sweat trickled unhurriedly down Spinelli's temple, down her tanned, flustered cheek, and finally dropped off her chin, splashing aptly onto the sizzling, morning-warmed blacktop below.

Of course, all of this went unnoticed by the sweater, who was too busy trying to make her considerably tiny legs work as hard as they possibly could, to complete the surprisingly physically demanding obstacle course her two friends had built for her on their Elementary school's playground.

"You know Vince," _puff_, "I have contacts!!!" Spinelli threatened, as she boarded Old Rusty's slippery slide- climbing _up_. "I have brothers!" _puff, _"And cousins!!"_ huff, _ "_Lots _of cousins!!!" _gasp,_ "Who're with the _Mafia_!!!!!" _huff,  _"You keep torturing me like this and," _puff_, "and they'll come after you!!!"

T.J., who was standing on the asphalt basketball courts next to Vince watching Spinelli's slow but determined progress, chuckled to the dark-skinned boy.

"Ooh, better start checkin' your bed for horses' heads, Vinnie!"

"I heard that!!!!!" Spinelli yelled from the top of the jungle gym. "And don't think my 'family' is gonna' let you off the hook either, doofus! You've _seen_ my brother, you know what he could do to you! Now imagine fifteen more guys like that, all ready to turn you into a human pretzel boy…"

T.J. continued laughing, but then suddenly stopped, when he realized there was no guarantee she was completely kidding…

*~*~*

Spinelli jogged up next to the boys a few minutes later, panting, sweating and thoroughly exhausted from her third attempt at Vince's makeshift obstacle course.

"H-_gasp_-How'd I do that time?" She asked, leaning against one of the basketball poles in case she collapsed from sheer fatigue.

"Ten minutes, twenty-three seconds." Vince answered, clicking his stopwatch. "Hmm, I think you can do much better Spin."

Spinelli clutched the pole as she tried to catch her breath, almost falling asleep standing leaning against the pole. "Hmm yeah, you know I'm not really at optimum performance during hours in which I'm usually horizontal…"

            "Oh come on," said T.J., looking at his watch, "You'd be up by now- it's seven-thirty!"

            "SEVEN-THIRTY!?!" Spinelli yelled in shock, almost falling to the ground as she stood up from the pole, "You mean we've been out here for TWO HOURS???"

            "Uh huh." Answered Vince.

            "'Fraid so." Replied T.J.

            Spinelli sighed exhaustedly, "I guess I'd better go home and have a shower and get ready for school…"

            She staggered off the playground slowly, dragging her feet as she walked, her shoulders slumped and her eyelids sagging over her weary, bloodshot eyes. T.J. looked to Vince uncertainly.

            "Boy Vince, I think we really wore her out."

            "What makes you say that?"

            "Well, she was even too tired to threaten us for making her do all this- that means she's gotta' be pretty dang tired…"

            "Hmm, yeah- you're right. Maybe we should go a bit easier on her…?"

            T.J. and Vince took about two seconds to look to each other, grin, and answer.

            "Nah…"

*****

**A/N:** Again, things will seem more interesting once we get through the beginning of the training. In the meantime, please R&R!!!


	8. Hook, Line, And Sucker

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** Back again. Reviewer thanks as per usual- Clintronic Waldrop (Sorry I missed you last time, you reviewed just after I posted), Spinelli Woods, Esquire (cool new name, and lol- that line would've been _so _funny!) noelle (thanks _so_ much for reviewing my original stuff- it's really appreciated!) , Quazimodo & Mistress of Balmoral, here is your update! You know, I think instead of droning on about nothing this time I'll just get straight into the story. Yeah, I can hear you all saying 'phew!' now…..

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter eight: Hook, Line, And Sucker**

The fifth grade's schoolwork was, if possible, particularly boring that day. Miss Finster's hour and a half lecture about the seemingly endless list of reasons of why getting scurvy is better than teaching 'you miserable miscreants' didn't help matters. Needless to say by the time the bell for lunch rang, the entire class breathed a large sigh of boredom relief.

            T.J., Spinelli, Vince, Gretchen, Gus and Mikey all sat at one of the school's cafeteria tables, trying to decide whether the cafeteria lunches they were served today were either still alive, or just moving for no apparent reason.

            As Gretchen looked over to T.J., Spinelli and Vince sitting on the other side of the table, poking their lively lunches with their forks, she couldn't help but ask:

            "So…where were you guys yesterday afternoon?"

            The three looked up, glancing at each other nervously.

            "Uhh…" stammered Vince.

            "We were…" stumbled T.J.

            "…Uhh- watching wrestling!" exclaimed Spinelli, knowing it wasn't a _complete_ lie.

            "Really? Since when do you two guys like professional wrestling?" asked Gus, looking to T.J. and Vince inquisitively.

            "Uhh, well, it _is_ a sport- and you know how I like sports!" answered Vince tautly.

            "Um, yeah! And Spinelli told me…uhh, that there was a guy on there who has a costume just like Senior Fusion, and I, umm, wanted to check it out!" lied T.J. inelegantly. The three of them chuckled uneasily, wondering if the others had fallen for their pathetic excuses for lies at all.

            "Oh I see." Said Gretchen, almost chuckling herself. "And whose house were you watching it at?"

            T.J., Spinelli and Vince all waited for the other to answer. When no one replied to Gretchen's question, the three of them all blurted out an answer at the same time.

            "T.J.'s!" answered Spinelli.

            "Vince's!" answered T.J.

            "Spinelli's!" answered Vince.

            Gretchen, Mikey and Gus simply looked at the other three with sceptically raised eyebrows and equally sceptical facial expressions.

            "Spill it, guys." Gretchen ordered.

            "What are you three hiding from us?" Gus asked.

            "And for the love of Mike, why are you hiding it?!" Mikey exclaimed a bit too dramatically.

            "Look guys," said Vince, taking the initiative to speak up, "I'll explain it all to you in a minute. But for now, don't you two need to go get some more _milk_?" Vince said suggestively to T.J. and Spinelli, the latter of whom, unsurprisingly, didn't pick up on the hint.

            "What are you talking about Vince? I've got half a carton left here!" replied Spinelli, shaking her carton of milk to hear its contents swishing around inside.

            "Uhh yeah, but you haven't got any chocolate milk yet- come on Spinelli!" covered T.J., grabbing Spinelli's arm and pulling her out of her chair. Before he walked off, T.J. bent down to Vince and murmured, "What are you up to?"

            "I'm gonna' make something up. I just want you to take Spinelli away so the three of us don't end up blurting out different things again."

            T.J. nodded and stood up, hooking his arm around Spinelli's and pulling her along as he made his way over to the other side of the cafeteria where the milk containers were. "Come on Spin- let's get something to toughen up those bones!"

            *~*~*

            The two returned a few minutes later, when T.J. was sure Vince had finished his explanation, and sat back down at the table. Spinelli was met with three sympathetic glances.

            "What are you guys lookin' at?" she asked warily.

            "It's okay Spinelli-" Mikey answered softly, "Vince told us everything…"

            Spinelli glared at Vince fiercely. "You WHAT?!?"

            "Uhh yeah, that's right- I told them all about your mysterious and foreign disease from South-Western Czechoslovakia that T.J. and I accidentally found out about, and I told them how your mom is making us help out with your complicated medication procedures in the afternoons, which is why we had to rush off yesterday and will have to everyday for a few weeks now…"

            "Oh, right!" Spinelli replied, finally understanding what Vince was talking about.

            "We're sorry for bugging you so much about it Spin, we had _no_ idea!" Apologised Gretchen.

            "Yeah Spinelli, I don't blame you for not telling us!" said Gus, "That disease is the most embarrassing thing I've ever heard!"

            Spinelli glared at Vince again. "It is???"

            "He, he…" Vince chuckled tensely, "Apparently so…"

            Spinelli growled inwardly, before relenting back to her seat- the exhaustion from this morning's early exercise taking it's toll yet again.

            The six of them began eating at their lunches again, when Gretchen looked up from her tomato surprise to Spinelli sitting opposite her. She gave a brief gasp as she looked at the raven-haired girl, with her head face down, blowing bubbles from the depths of her tomato surprise.

            "Is she okay!?" Gretchen asked worriedly to Vince seated on the right of Spinelli.

            "Whoa Spin!" said T.J. as he pulled Spinelli's face out of the soupy substance by yanking at her jacket collar. To everyone's partial shock, Spinelli's soup-dripping face had it's eyes closed, mouth partway open, and a loud, snoring noise omitting from it, which was, evidently- snoring.

            "Wake up Spin!" Said Vince, while patting her lightly on the cheek. Spinelli stirred slightly, then suddenly awoke with a start.

            "I DON'T WANNA' DO ANOTHER LAP!!!" Spinelli yelled, before noticing her surroundings and their inhabitants, who were all staring at her.

            "Tsk, tsk- symptoms." Vince explained. "Exhaustion. Delirium. Irritability…"

            "We can only pray the intense medication works…" said T.J. in a fake saddened tone, while really trying to compress his bursting laughter.

            "Medication for what?" blurted Spinelli, attempting to wipe the tomato surprise from her eyes.

            "Your disease,_ remember_???" said Vince, before looking to the others and whispering, "Forgetfulness…"

            T.J. covered his eyes melodramatically. "It's all just so _tragic_!!!" He exclaimed before putting his head in his hands, running out of the room, and bursting into what would have _looked_ like tears, but was really uncontrollable laughter from Vince's tall tale.

            "I'd better go comfort him. Come on Spinelli- we're going to find T.J.- you remember him?" Vince said, addressing Spinelli like he was talking to a lethargic four-year-old while he hauled her from her seat.

            "Huhwaza…?" Spinelli mumbled half consciously, having just fallen asleep at the table yet again.

            As Vince and Spinelli ran out of the cafeteria (well, _Vince_ ran- Spinelli just sort of…stumbled), and caught up to T.J., Vince looked to him and grinned successfully.

            "Hook, line, and sinker…"

*****

**A/N:** Okay, this chapter was basically to inform you why the others weren't getting suspicious. Just an info chappie basically. But it was kinda' funny…wasn't it? *Sighs* Yeah, I know, I know… 'Please R&R'…


	9. Lost For Words

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N: **I'm SOOOOOOOO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. And it's not even that long _or_ that good. I've just had _so_ much homework and assignments…anyways, I'll stop complaining now. Thanks _heaps_ for all your patience- Spinelli woods esquire, Mistress of Balmoral, Clintronic Waldrop, kianie, and Vicki and Teazer- thanks HEAPS for all your support! You all rock for reviewing!!! I'm gonna' try _really_ hard to get the next chapter up quicker- even if I have to fail all my classes to do it! And now, on with the fic!!!

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter nine: Lost For Words**

            The instant the metallic clanger touched the surface of the tinny steel school bell, Spinelli, T.J. and Vince bid farewell to their three friends- Gus, who was trying his hardest not to look like he was backing away slowly from the 'diseased' Spinelli, Gretchen, who was still pondering as to why she'd never heard of Spinelli's particular condition before, and Mikey, who simply stood there exclaiming about the 'unfairness of it all'. After the three walked off and out of sight of the others, the former three all began to sprint towards their destination, laughing their heads off all the way. 

They reached the society door, said the new password to the whiny voiced guy who was there again (who by the way, instead of laughing at Spinelli today, opted to just back away slowly, a smart move on his behalf after seeing what Spinelli did to Kurst just yesterday), and walked inside down the corridor. When they reached the door, Spinelli went to open it, but then hesitated.

            "Uhh, you know what? I think I'll meet you guys later, 'kay?" Spinelli said to the two boys as she turned in the other direction to keep walking down the corridor.

            "Why? Where ya' going?" asked T.J. inquiringly.

            Spinelli turned back from walking down the dark corridor and answered with a subtle smile, "Just goin' to do some catching up with an old friend…"

            *~*~*

A raven-haired girl timidly knocked on a wooden door, not exactly sure why she was so nervous. After all, she was only going to talk to her big brother. A husky voice answered:

            "Come in, Ash."

            Spinelli pushed the door open nervously. She looked into the room and saw Vitto sitting in his chair as he was yesterday, watching the small television on the back wall.

            "How do you always know who's at the door?" Spinelli asked Vitto curiously as she entered the room and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk to her brother.

            Vitto's chair swivelled around, and the sixteen-year-old grinned at his sister, with the faint growth of what was called a 'bad-assed' moustache showing perceptibly above his lip. He pointed over to the black-and-white television set he had been watching.

            "Seem familiar?" he asked as Spinelli looked to the screen. All it was showing was a picture of a dark, empty hallway. Suddenly, the scene switched to a boxing ring surrounded by cheering teenagers, as two fighters combated in the ring. In a couple of seconds, the scene changed again to a bird's eye view of a basement straggled with various kids who all looked a little too sadistic for their own good.

            "Surveillance cameras." Said Vitto. "So I can keep an eye on the place and make sure no riots break out or anything." Spinelli nodded understandingly, as the scene flicked to a shoulder-height view of the same room as before.

            "Hey look- there's your punching bag!" Vitto laughed as he pointed to the boy on the right who was watching the fight next to a dark-skinned boy.

            Spinelli hesitated to ask. "Hey Vitto- uhh, how did you _afford_ all this? You're still at school, you don't have a job, and you're still livin' off the money that mom and dad send you- you mustn't have very much to spend."

            "Ah, don't worry Ash." Answered Vitto, knowing his sister's exact worry without asking. "I haven't turned hoodlum on you. One of the members donated them to the club. Beats me as to how _he_ afforded them, though."

"Oh, okay then." Replied Spinelli, somewhat relieved Vitto wasn't going to be rooming with Joey any time soon… Silence abruptly filled the room, and Spinelli looked around uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say next. "Sooooooo…"

            "Yyyyyeah…" replied Vitto in the same tone as his sister.

            An uncomfortable quietude once again engulfed the area. Spinelli looked around awkwardly at the objects in the room, trying desperately to find something to talk about. Her eyes laid upon the photo frame sitting idly at the front of Vitto's desk, containing the picture of the three siblings when they were younger. She smiled lightly in reminiscence.

            _'Man, I never knew I was so small!'_ Spinelli thought to herself, noticing how her arms had barely reached around her brothers' necks. She looked across at Joey, noting how he had had to bend over to fit into the photo. _'Or maybe it was just my brothers that were so big.'_

            Spinelli thought back for a moment. Joey had always been a very tall boy, and never gangly or out of proportion because of it. It was kind of strange, as he was really the only tallish one in the whole Spinelli family, with the exception of Flo's father Dave. By the time Joey was fifteen he towered over his parents, leaving his ten-year-old brother far, far below. Vitto held more of a short, solid build. He'd never been very stocky- quite the contrary; he'd been quite scrawny as a little kid, but when he was about eleven his build became increasingly muscular. At his current sixteen-year-old self, Vitto's biceps beared quite a resemblance to a pair of oversized tennis balls bulging out of his arms. Spinelli wondered how any of the kids in the other room were brave enough to ever get in the ring with him. Joey also had the same super-muscular upper body as Vitto, mainly gained from his interest in fighting sports. 

            "I miss Joey." Spinelli blurted out before the thought even ran through her head.

            "Yeah, me too." Replied Vitto slightly downcast. He grinned lightly and looked up to his sister. "You know what Joey's fighting name was?"

"No, what?" Spinelli asked smiling slightly, glad that the uncomfortable silence had broken. She didn't know why, but she had always found it quite hard to hold a proper conversation with Vitto.

"'The Thrasher'." Answered Vitto with a light chuckle. Spinelli laughed for a second, but then a thought ran through her head- _'Thrasher! Really? Man, he's only ever called two guys that before, and they're both sort of 'legends' around here…'_ Spinelli suddenly remembered what Jason had said about Tyson's nickname for her on her first day here. Suddenly it clicked with her- Joey and Vitto must have been the two guys he was talking about. Of course they'd be 'legends' around here- they _own_ the joint. Spinelli decided to ask:

"Hey Vitto- has any blondish guy with a bandanna ever called you thrasher?"

Vitto raised an eyebrow. "You mean that Tyson guy? Yeah, he's called me that a couple of times. Kid's an okay fighter. I used to be buds with his older brother. Why? Do you know him?"

"Well yeah, he's the guy who invited me to this place. I've seen him refereeing a couple of times. He's kinda' nice…" Spinelli's smile widened ever so slightly. "He called me thrasher too."

Vitto grinned with pride. "Must run in the family." 

In a second, a sudden unpleasant silence had once again filled the room. Spinelli decided she wasn't going to stick around to see what else she blurted out.

"Hey, look at the time- I'd better get back to the fight, T.J. and Vince will be wonderin' where I am."

"Okay then…I guess I'll see ya' later…" Vitto replied, in a downcast tone somewhat like the one he was using when talking about Joey.

Spinelli looked down at her shoes, and for the first time in a year, remembered they were the same pair which Vitto had once owned…

"I miss you too, you know." Spinelli looked up, seeing Vitto's expression somewhat a bit surprised. "Not havin' you around home and all- it's just not the same, you know?"

Vitto nodded and looked down. "Yeah, I know."

Spinelli nodded and uncomfortably walked towards the door. Once she was out the door, Vitto replied softly:

"I miss you, too…"

*****

**A/N:** Yeah, I know- this chapter really has nothing to do with anything, I just really like describing the Spinelli brothers. If they were ever shown on the show, I think they'd be two of my favourite characters, so I decided to give them life in fiction form. Anyways, this also has nothing to do with anything. But who cares. Okay, say it with me now- "Please R&R…"


	10. On The Devil's Shoulder

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** Oh boy, am I ever sorry for not updating earlier! I was _really_ struggling to write this chapter- but the next one _will_ be up sooner! (Yeah okay, I know I've said that many, many times now, but this time it's _true_…hopefully…). By the way, it was really sweet of those of you who said you didn't want me to fail my classes to finish this fic- I _really_ appreciate your thoughtfulness! And a MASSIVE thanks goes to all those sticking with me through this- Clintronic Waldrop, kianie, Mistress of Balmoral, and Spinelli Woods, Esquire- you don't know how much your support is appreciated!

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter ten: On The Devil's Shoulder**

"COME ON YOU LITTLE HOBO!!!"

An over-competitive viewer shrieked from the sidelines of a boxing ring, as the remainder of the crowd screamed even louder; in front of them, two people struggled inside a boxing ring. One of them, apparently trained in the art of judo, blocked a left from his opponent, just before receiving a succession of jabs in the chest.

"He let his guard down too much at the front." Commented Vince to T.J., as the two boys watched the fight from a little way off. "He should have blocked the left and then went straight back to a full-on defence stance."

"Boy, you're sure getting the hang of this coaching thing, aren't you?" Said T.J. with a grin.

Vince smiled. "Be sure to mention that to Spin- I don't think she believes it."

"Be sure to mention _what_ to Spin???" A voice behind the boys asked as they both felt a hand on their shoulders. They turned their heads around, and smiled.

"Welcome back Spin," T.J. greeted, "I was just saying how good Vince is getting at this fighting coach thing- don't you think?"

Spinelli looked to Vince, and replied bluntly, "No, no I don't."

Vince frowned and retorted just as bluntly, "No you're right. You _don't _think."

T.J. began to laugh, before Spinelli shot a dirty side-glance at him. He stopped immediately.

"That is _so_ not funny." Said T.J., in perhaps the smartest comment all afternoon.

The three of them turned their attention back to the- well, the non-existent fight. It was apparently intermission.

"Aw man," Sighed T.J., "You know, I wish there was more to do around here during the breaks. I feel kinda' uncomfortable just standing here."

"I know what you mean," agreed Vince, "These guys just stand around and talk- but we've really got no one to talk to."

Spinelli looked around. There were lots of people here they knew- there must have been at least one they could talk to. Suddenly she spotted just the guy she was looking for, over by the announcer's table.

"Come on, guys! I know someone we can talk to!" Spinelli exclaimed, as she grabbed T.J. by the wrist and pulled him over to the announcer's table, followed by Vince. When she reached the table, the boy had his back to the trio, fiddling with one of the microphone leads. Spinelli tapped him on the left shoulder and stepped to the right. The boy stupidly looked left, and then turned around to see Spinelli standing behind him, grinning mischievously.

"Well hey there thrasher!" Tyson greeted with a grin. "Didn't see you when you came in- how are ya'?"

"Great!" replied Spinelli enthusiastically. Tyson glanced suggestively at the two boys standing uncomfortably behind her. Spinelli turned around, looked to the boys, and for the first time remembered that they hadn't met with Tyson before this, and visa versa. "Oh yeah- Tyson, these are my friends." She pointed to the dark-skinned boy, "This is my, _cough _'coach', Vince." Vince smiled at Tyson in acknowledgement, and then glared at Spinelli in annoyance of the 'cough'. Spinelli turned to the sandy-haired boy. "And this is my training partner, T.J." She then turned around to stand next to the bandanna-bearing boy. "Vince, Teej- this is Tyson. He's the one that invited me to this place."

T.J. stuck out a hand cordially. "Hi, nice to meet you Tyson!"

Tyson looked down at the offer almost amusedly. Without putting out his own hand he replied briefly, "Nice to meet you too- E.Bay…"

"Uhh…that's T.J…?" the red-capped boy corrected, looking down at his unshaken hand and slowly putting it back in his pocket.

"Sure it is…" Replied Tyson uninterestedly. He turned back to Spinelli and began talking again. "So, you met up with your brother yet?"

"Yeah!" she answered, evidently not noticing the rejection of T.J.'s handshake gesture, "Oh man, I can't believe he_ owns_ this place!"

"Yeah, he's a pretty lucky guy to have all this, especially the equipment- most of that stuff's top of the line. Real expensive like." He added the last sentence with an undetectable smirk. T.J. and Vince exchanged confused glances.

"Does Vitto get a lot of money from this club?" Vince asked Tyson.

"He doesn't really get _any_ money from the club. Unless he, you know, wins a tourney or somethin'. The little bit of money he gets from bookies goes to buyin' equipment. Kinda' stupid I think- this place could make so much profit, but Vitto doesn't like makin' kids pay to fight. Says it takes the passion outta' fightin'. I say that's a load of bull-"

"But wait-" T.J. interrupted, watching Tyson charily, "Then how does he pay for all this 'expensive equipment'?"

"Well…" Tyson replied slowly, getting aggravated with all these questions, "_Some_ members donate money and…so forth…to help keep the place up and running. They get a better fighting environment, and the club gets better equipped. It's win-win."

"Oh…" replied T.J. uncertainly. He glared at Tyson for a moment. There was something doubtful T.J. didn't like about him. Spinelli on the other hand, T.J. noticed, had taken to Tyson quite well. She smiled like there was no tomorrow every time he looked at her, and there seemed to be some sort of unspoken admiration for him. _'Maybe he's not so bad.' _T.J. thought to himself, _'If Spinelli likes him so much, she's gotta' see something in him…'_

T.J. tuned back in to the conversation just to hear Tyson speak to Spinelli yet again. "So, you gonna' come to watch the tourney next week?" Somewhere near the beginning of his sentence, Spinelli felt Tyson's hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She grinned sheepishly as she looked up at him- into his rebellious, ice blue eyes…

"'Course she ain't coming to watch!" answered Vince with pride, "She's coming to kick some warrior butt!!!"

"_You're_ entering???" asked Tyson, looking at Spinelli with slight incredulity.

"Sure she is!" answered T.J. defensively, walking up beside Spinelli and resting his hand on her _other_ shoulder… "Why _Bison_?? Don't you think she can do it???" T.J. raised an eyebrow aggressively. Tyson stared across at T.J.'s hard glare for a moment, wondering if the smaller boy was proposing some sort of challenge upon him. He just laughed, and looked down at Spinelli encouragingly.

"Course I do! I'm just amazed at how eager she is to get into all this considerin' she only started here two days ago. Then again, she does come from a spirited family!" Tyson grinned as he patted Spinelli on the back confidently. He rested his hand back across up upon her opposite shoulder, where T.J.'s lay. T.J. submissively lifted his hand and shoved it back in his green jacket pocket.

Spinelli felt the hand now resting on her other shoulder, and was about to shrug it off, before stopping herself. _'It's just a friendly gesture'_, she thought, _'Tyson's a friend now. Don't get so uptight- it's nothin' special…'_

Vince shifted the weight on his feet, uncomfortably watching the scene before him- partially because he didn't know exactly what was going on between the three people before him, and partially because, whatever it was, he was sure he didn't want to be involved in it.

Someone walked up behind the group and investigated the scene, before speaking to the four people.

"Hey guys, what's goin' on???" asked a husky voice, as T.J, Spinelli and Tyson looked up and Vince turned around to see an older boy with reddish hair and freckles.

"Hi Jason!" greeted Vince, glad something was breaking whatever situation was going on.

"We were just talking with Tyson here." Answered T.J. tautly, still with his hands clenched in his pockets.

Jason looked across at Tyson with his arm across Spinelli's shoulders and frowned.

"So, what are _you_ up to?" he asked rigidly, glowering down at Tyson's lightly freckled face in uncertainty.

Tyson scowled back up at Jason silently. "None of your business. You…?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Sayin' hey to these guys." He motioned his head towards the three kids without breaking eye contact with the dirty-blonde haired boy.

T.J., Vince and Spinelli looked between the two teenage boys, noticing the tension between them. Spinelli noted briefly how much the freckles on the two boys' faces looked somewhat alike. _'Funny'_, she thought to herself, _'I didn't even know they knew each other…'_

Jason and Tyson continued to glare at each other, until Tyson broke the rigidity with a defiant smirk.

"Look, whatever. I gotta' get back to the mics and end break time." He said starkly, turning around, grinning at Spinelli, and then treading back to the announcer's table. Spinelli grinned after him for a while, watching the ruggedly clad teenager absorbedly. Jason also watched after Tyson, but for a completely different intent. 

The older red head slowly crouched down in front of the three kids, so his head reached about their standing height. He spoke in a low voice to the three in front of him.

"You kids just watch yourself around him. Tyson can be a pretty…shifty character when he needs to be."

"What???" sputtered Spinelli, turning around to face Jason with disbelief. "What are you talkin' about? Tyson's a great guy- he's the one who invited me here!"

"Yeah well, let's just say Tyson rarely does anything without a motive…" Jason countered darkly. "Just don't be surprised if he asks for somethin' in return."

Spinelli just rolled her eyes and snorted. "Pfft- I don't _have_ anything to give him anyway! Unless I pawned all the junk in my room…but still with that- 54 cents won't buy you much…"

Jason still glared doubtfully over at the blonde boy. He sighed and looked across to the young raven-haired girl, wishing that she would stop being so stubborn and, well…clueless, about all this. He knew what he was talking about- after all, he knew Tyson Tyzack better than almost anyone- unfortunately. It was up to him to watch out for the people Tyson got too close to, to make sure they didn't get mixed up in any of his trouble. And this Spinelli girl was a really nice kid, with nice, decent friends- but Jason knew her connections would automatically cause her trouble with the bandanna-bearing boy, which is something he didn't want to see happen to such a good kid. When Jason looked at Spinelli and her friends, he saw an innocence, a youthfulness, a purity of spirit, which he hadn't seen around these parts for a long while. As one of the older and long-time members of the Seventh Heaven Society, Jason knew that the club had once stood for determination, and a passion to fight- but ever so gradually, it just seemed to have lost it's spirit- the vast majority of kids that came to fight were simply bloodthirsty hoodlums with nothing better to do with their time than pound raw flesh. But now that there seemed to be a tiny glint of light within the shadows, he wasn't about to let Tyson blow it out…

"Just…be careful around him, okay?" He said gently, "All three of you- watch your footing, 'cause Tyson can get pretty slippery sometimes…"

"Okay then…" replied Spinelli slowly, "Whatever that means…"

            *****

**A/N:** The next post should be up _much_ sooner- in fact, if it's not up within two weeks, please feel free to flame me in any way shape, or form you wish. This includes tracking down my address and throwing flaming rocks through my bedroom window. Don't ask me how you'd get a rock to set on fire…if you happen to know how, or just wish to tell me what you think of this chapter/story, please review!!!


	11. Pain And Perseverance

**Disclaimer:** Page 1

**A/N:** Okay, I did promise I'd have a post up within two weeks, so here it is. Problem is, its only half the chapter, so it will most probably sound really short and empty, and I'm SO sorry for that! It's entirely my fault that I can't seem to do things fast when I have to! Oh well, it doesn't matter. It is, nonetheless, a _chapter_. A big thanks to 'Peaches the First- or should I say Grounded' for reviewing (yay- you're not dead!), and another big thanks to 'Clintronic Waldrop' and 'Spinelli Woods, Esquire' for reviewing I think every chapter so far! You guys rule so much!!!

*****

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter eleven: Pain & Perseverance**

The three kids didn't hang around much longer- the fights today were particularly uninteresting, so Vince decided to use the time to get an early start on afternoon training. 

T.J. kicked a small rock with the toe of his red and white sneaker, and watched as it bounded happily down the filthy Rosewood Drive asphalt. It was a lot lighter out than it was when they had left the Society yesterday- the sun was still high in the sky, instead of laying low and gliding over the roofs of far-off houses. He casually glanced at his watch, and noticed it was only four o'clock. He reached the spot where the rock had fallen to, and was about to kick it out in front of him again, when a large, grey combat boot beat him to it.

"So where we headed this arvo'?" The kicker grudgingly asked, as she looked uninterestedly to the tall, dark boy to the left of her.

"Hmm, well I was thinking about it last night," replied Vince, with his coaching instincts lighting up in his eyes, "And what I think you need is a taste of an activity that'll teach you fast defence and the handling of pain at the same time."

"So _where_ are we going…?" Spinelli asked slowly, knowing by the second that she wasn't going to like whatever was coming.

"We're going to the batting cages!" answered Vince with excitement.

"Oh…well that's not so bad! Batting practice is tender- I always like activities where I can hit stuff with sticks!" Spinelli replied with relief, glad that this activity wasn't going to cause her any embarrassment or pain. Unfortunately for her, she thought wrong. Very wrong.

Vince just held back a grin at her answer, which Spinelli noticed as fast as the Ashleys notice your hair's not completely colour coordinated with your shoelaces.

"What?! WHAT!!! What is it Vince?!? Your gonna' make me do somethin' painful, AREN'T YOU!!!" Spinelli erupted, now reaching the spot where the rock had been kicked to and booting it high, high into the air in a one-way flight fuelled by anger.

Vince answered in a mock-innocent voice, "Me??? No, what do you take me for- some kind of evil, inhuman monster…?"

*~*~*

            "YOU EVIL INHUMAN MONSTER!!!" Spinelli yelled- nay, screamed- from inside the confines of a chain-linked batting cage, where she was currently without a bat, or in fact, any instrument to help her defend against the hard, thick-skinned baseballs which periodically sped through the air towards her.

            The boys watched with amusement as one belted her in the side of the arm, setting off Spinelli's only primitive defence to kick the ball wrathfully. However, the karma came back to belt her in the leg when the next ball, literally, belted her in the leg. She then began yelling at the synthetic sphere, pointing at it accusingly as it landed idly on the ground, even though she knew yelling at an inanimate object usually resulted in no effect other than being dragged off by your feet to the nearest crazy house.

            The boys stood outside the cages, laughing at the ridiculousness of Spinelli's reaction, when she turned to them and yelled:

            "Do you guys get some sort of sick, psychopathic enjoyment out of watching me get hurt or someth- OUCH!!!" Spinelli flinched in pain as she was struck in the small of her back. T.J. and Vince watched on, as T.J. decided to ask Vince something that had been on his mind since they left.

"So…what do you think about Tyson?" He asked flatly, without taking his eyes off Spinelli's- if you could call them 'attempts'- at dodging the speeding baseballs.

            Vince contemplated on the question for a moment, while watching Spinelli get belted in the chest with yet another flying baseball, her arms wrapped around the injured area like a self-performed hug, while her mouth muttered low volume obscenities.

            "I don't think I know him enough yet to say what I think of him." Vince stated wisely. "My immediate impression is that he kinda' reminds me of some sort of…puppy."

            "You mean one of those annoying little terriers that constantly yap in your ear and bite your heels for no reason???" replied T.J., watching now as Spinelli got struck in the stomach. She doubled over, clutching her stomach and painfully gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of her by the speeding baseball.

            "Not really- just kinda' like a lost puppy that's been kicked one too many times…" Vince replied, watching as Spinelli's doubled over position became a foetal one as a ball thumped her forcefully in the back of the head, leaving her to collapse to the ground, her legs curled up and her hands gripping the back of her head in pain.

            "There's just something I don't like about him." Said T.J., narrowing his eyes at the thought, "He's got a shifty kind of character. It's like he's got ulterior motives for _everything_." He paused, gazing down at Spinelli with a far-off glaze covering his sky-blue eyes. "_She_ sure seems to have taken to him though. I sure don't understand _why_…"

            "Well, he is the one who invited her to the S.H.S., she's probably just bein' friendly. And like you said before, Tyson comes off as a shifty character. Some people find that kinda' mysterious and rebellious. My brother says girls seem to like that."

            For the first time since they got there, T.J. took his eyes off Spinelli, and looked to Vince with incredulity. 

            "But this isn't a _girl_- this is _Spinelli_ we're talkin' about here! You know, good ol', tough-as-nails, nobody's fool, kick-you-in-the-shins Spinelli!! She'd never fall for a guy like _that_- she'd never fall for _any_ guy!!!" He exclaimed, suddenly remembering a young, blonde-haired boy from last year named Johnny something-or-other. T.J. looked down doubtfully at his shoelaces…

            Vince just shrugged his shoulders casually, replying vaguely, "Whatever you like to think…"

            The quietness of Spinelli's obscenities suddenly went from low, to entirely non-existent. The boys listened as she began yelling long-winded sentences filled with various four-letter words, occasionally preluding the names T.J. and Vince.

            The taller, darker boy walked over to the cages and flicked open the latch, pulling the cage door open with a rusty 'creak'. He walked in and stood above Spinelli, looking down at her with folded arms like he did after their disastrous dance lessons.

            "And what have we learnt…?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

            Spinelli remained curled up, her left eye twitching slightly as she answered disjointedly:

            "P-Pain…is…b-bad…?"

            "Very good. And if you follow my training right, you won't get hurt…much. Now get up- T.J.'s gonna' try to beat you up in Kelso's freezer again…" 

            Vince turned around and out of the cages, smiling to himself as he heard the obscenities begin again…

*****

**A/N:** Again, I'm sorry for the shortness and half-chapter-ness. Also, I'm really sorry if any of you are getting bored with this story- it _will_ get better…hopefully. My stories seem to shine near the end. Well, I think so anyway. So…I'm not really sure how many of you out there are still reading this, but if you are, please let me know in review form! 


	12. More Pain, Not So Much Perseverance

**Disclaimer:** This is the last disclaimer I'm gonna' do for this story- it's on page one, all you legal people!

**A/N:** How good is the new fanfiction edit thingy! Centering actually works!!! Oh boy, I haven't updated in quite a while- I feel soooo bad! I've been overloaded with school work, and this year's a very important year school-wise, so I'm really sorry if if seems as though I've been neglecting fanfiction- because I haven't! Believe me, I use my spare time to write- of course it would help if I had a little more spare time. A massive thanks to Spinelli Woods, Esquire, Clintronic Waldrop, and Yankee Doodle Blonde for reviewing! I'm so glad there are at least you guys out there still reading this! You make fanfiction life worth living!!!

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
****By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter eleven-and-a-half-but-let's-just-call-it-twelve: More Pain, Less Perseverance**

A delightfully quaint 'dinging' sound rang into the precincts of Kelso's General Store, as three kids all aged around ten years walked inside.

"Thanks again for letting us use your freezer room, Mr Kelso!" said Vince friendlily as they walked past the greying man standing behind the counter of his small-chain general store.

"For a bunch of nice kids like you, it's nothing!" He replied in the same friendly tone. "Heck- you and your friends are some of my best customers- between the six of you you've practically _paid _for the freezer!"

Vince smiled as he unlatched the freezer door to let the two combatants step in. After removing their jackets, pants and shoes so they were again standing in their freezing swimming costumes, Vince turned to Spinelli and asked:

"Okay- you know this training is all about getting experience and learning from your mistakes. So remembering from what happened _last_ time, tell me what you've learnt."

Spinelli scowled. "That you're a b--"

"About the _training_!!!" Vince interrupted, before more profanities filled the freezer room.

Spinelli tried to stop shivering (and swearing…), and thought for a moment. She bit her lip in concentration and answered slowly:

"Punching…in the c-cold…h-hurts the puncher…?"

"That's right!" Vince answered gladly, "So what do you do in colder conditions, or ones that you know are gonna' hurt you like this if you punch?"

"…Don't punch?"

"Yeah, but what do you do instead?"

"Umm, run…?"

"Noooo, try again."

"Um, well…I g-guess…" She answered, her teeth chattering as she spoke. She suddenly clicked her fingers in inspiration of an answer. "You could wr-wrestle them!"

"Excellent!!!" answered Vince proudly. "You know, I'm really surprised you actually didn't try that in the first place."

"Yeah well, you know, I'm better at wrestling," she replied, motioning to T.J., "And I didn't wanna' hurt him _too_ badly…"

Vince looked to T.J., and then back at Spinelli, who was looking at T.J.. Vince smiled for a moment, for a reason only known to himself.

"I understand." He replied knowingly. "But it's okay, this is the only training where you'll have to 'take him on'. If you don't want to run the risk of hurting him, just disable him."

The 'him' in the conversation stood rubbing his hands over his arms a fair few feet away from the other two, quite unaware he was being talked about. He was too busy staring up at one of the freezer shelves beside him, looking intently at an unopened, industrial sized tub of double-double chocolate chipped chocolate chip ice cream. T.J. was never exactly sure how it was possible to make a chocolate chipped chocolate chip, let alone a double-double version of one, but nevertheless he was blinded with the overpowering question: _'I wonder if old man Kelso would notice…'_

However, his stomach's fantasies were soon snapped out of his mind when an all too familiar voice yelled an all too familiar sentence in the all too familiar shouting zone of his face.

"TEEJ!!! Would you pay attention!?! We got work to do here!!!" Spinelli yelled as she grabbed T.J. by the cheeks (A/N: The FACIAL ones people!!!) and turned his softly freckled face to look towards her pouting one.

"Sowwy…" T.J. tried to say between his squeezed cheeks (A/N: Again, I know all your T/S shippy fanfictioner minds…the _face_ cheeks…right???). Spinelli smirked at T.J.'s speech. She let go of his face and stepped back from him, ready to start the practice session.

"You guys ready?" Vince asked. When he was received with two eager nods, he put his hand in-between them and said, "Okay- GO!!!"

T.J. bounced around a bit, half in an attempt to stay agile, the other half to stay warm. He circled his fists around in front of his face, watching Spinelli attentively. The latter just stood there with a raised eyebrow, watching T.J.'s laughable attempt at a boxing stance. She sighed tiredly.

"Let's just get this over with as fast as possible, okay?" Spinelli then got into position, bracing herself by bending her knees and crouching over slightly, scanning down low for a weak spot in T.J.

"Come on, Spin!" T.J. egged on lightheartedly, continuing to bounce around wildly. He began winding Spinelli up, "Just _try_ and take me down! Yeah, you big tough 'devil girl' fighter kid type person thingy…uhh…yeah!!! You just try and catch me you slow-witted, lazy--"

THUD! SLAM! "Nice."

The 'thud' was the sound of T.J.'s knees hitting the floor after Spinelli had kicked him in the back of his shins, making his legs automatically collapse. The 'slam' was the sound of Spinelli leaping forward onto T.J. and wrestling him into a foolproof restraint position. He currently laid underneath her, completely unable to move. The "nice" was the first word T.J. croaked out after the impressively fast move was completed.

"Very nice work, Spin!" congratulated Vince, "That was a great disabling strategy, and your speed is fantastic!"

"Really???" asked Spinelli excitedly. She grinned in success of at least _one_ of Vince's training techniques, and opened her mouth to rub her victory in T.J.'s face, until she realised exactly where T.J.'s face was at that moment.

Under her face. Along with the rest of his body. Right…under…hers…

One can safely say that there are certain situations in life where you'd rather not be pressed against another person- for example; when being tickled, while throwing up, and in a freezer room wearing a not-very-concealing swimsuit…

Spinelli immediately leapt off of T.J., sitting up stiffly a few feet away, her cheeks turning a rosy red colour. T.J. also sat up straight, his cheeks strangely turning the same shade of red.

"There, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" said Vince, breaking the uncomfortableness between the two kids below him.

"Nope- not nearly as hard as your head." Replied Spinelli with a bitter smirk. T.J. giggled. Vince didn't.

"Okay- just for that, we're going back to the dance lessons!" He retorted. Vince laughed. T.J. and Spinelli didn't.

* * *

"Uhh Vince- why are we outside???" T.J. asked as the three of them walked through the spacious green park on Thirteenth Street. They had stopped off at Vince's house on the way there so Vince could pick up his tape player, which he now carried as they walked through the park and past the various people that were in it.

"So you two don't _destroy_ my living room again with your chaotic excuse for dancing." He replied matter-of-factly.

"Well you could have at least picked a place where people won't _see_ us!!!" Said Spinelli a little frantically as she looked around at the few people scattered about the park grounds who could possibly see them from where they were standing. Vince stopped and set the tape player on the ground, pulling out an unlabelled tape from his pocket and pushing it into the tape player.

"There's more room out here- and despite how much you think people wanna' watch you two," Vince said sarcastically, "they're not gonna' spend their time watching you flunk out of dance lessons- unless they're shooting for America's Funniest Home Videos…"

"Ha, ha, ha." Spinelli spat sarcastically, "You're _so_ funny Vince. Quick let's get you into a nightclub gig before your incredible talent goes to waste. Go! Go! For the good of humanity, go!!!"

Spinelli smirked, contented with herself for defending her title of queen of sarcasm.

"Now, do you guys remember any of the moves I taught you?" Vince asked, ignoring the comment and looking to the both of them

Unsurprisingly, Vince was met with two blank stares.

"Okay…then why don't you just go with what you can remember from the music?" He reached down and pressed the worn over black 'play' button and stood back, as the opening tom drums began thundering through the tape player.

"Take position." Vince commanded, as Spinelli again looked reluctantly to T.J.

"Come on Spin, we may as well just get it over with." Reasoned T.J., stepping closer to Spinelli and putting out his hands, "You Vince won't give up until he's got his way…"

Spinelli sighed, not wanting to give up too easily in case the boys thought she actually _liked _doing this sort of thing, and unenthusiastically placed her hands in T.J.'s. The trombone sounded its first riff…

"Ready guys?" asked Vince, not waiting for an answer, "Start when the trumpets and bass come in…"

And then the trumpets and bass came in.

Spinelli and T.J. began moving to the fast-paced beat, and truth be told they didn't do at all too badly at first. Spinelli appeared to have remembered most of her moves, and was 'leading' T.J. by pushing and pulling him where he had to be. Vince was surprisingly pleased with how much Spinelli had remembered just from yesterday, and how well she seemed to be handling the moves. Well, at least for a little while.

Somewhere about quarter a way through the song, Spinelli began struggling to remember the dance moves. She looked to T.J., who was absolutely no help, having not remembered any of the moves to the dance at all, including the ones they'd already done. They began stumbling around aimlessly for a while, moving to the beat in any random fashion which may have made it seem like they still knew what they were doing. In the fast pace they began tripping over each other's feet, and bumping into each other, making it quite obvious they no longer remembered the moves. But then the music began to build up- the bass drum came it loud and hard- the brass instruments were going crazy- and there was one move that they both remembered…

Spinelli and T.J. grabbed one hand of the other, and spun out from each other, until they reached the full stretch. Spinelli stood back on her own weight, with T.J. leaning back and relying on her.

Now, there's lessons to be learnt about relying on Spinelli with anything in life. It can be a good turn of events, as Spinelli is a very strong girl. However, the problem with relying on Spinelli is that, well…she's a little unreliable…

At the full stretch of the spin, Spinelli's hand suddenly slipped out of T.J.'s. Spinelli was safe, standing on her own weight, but poor T.J., relying on Spinelli, went stumbling backwards, falling flat on his butt in the middle of the park.

Being the good friends that they are, Spinelli and Vince immediately burst out laughing.

T.J.'s face went slightly pink as he sat there watching his two friends laugh in his face. He looked up to Spinelli, indignant and a little wounded.

"What happened?" He asked.

Spinelli controlled her laughter enough to answer, "I'm sorry Teej, I guess my hand slipped. I thought you were standin' on your own weight- I had no idea you were relyin' on me not to let you fall on your butt!"

Spinelli began to laugh again, but stuck her hand out to help T.J. up. He grudgingly grabbed it and stumbled up, and Vince finally stopped laughing, just in time for the three to hear the song finish with a satisfying drizzle of big band instruments. In a couple of seconds however, another song began- this one softer and slower- _much_ slower. It sounded kind of like one of those olden-day slow dances that Spinelli recalled Miss Finster listening to once.

"Oops, sorry guys." Said Vince, "I must have left the tape recorder running when I was recording the record. Oh well, you guys can just keep dancing to this…"

T.J. looked slowly to Spinelli, awaiting a reaction to the news of more dancing. But before he could notice her response, T.J. suddenly noticed something else. He looked down, and slowly realised that the hand he'd used to let Spinelli pull him up with was still grasped onto hers. He hadn't even noticed he hadn't let go- it was almost as if it was just a natural thing for him to be standing there holding Spinelli's hand. Spinelli seemed to have others ideas however, or so it seemed, anyway.

"Vince, I ain't dancin' to no olden-timer slow dance music- especially not with 'Senior Contusion' over here-" Spinelli went to motion towards T.J. with her right hand, until she realised that it appeared to be attached to something- that something being T.J.'s hand. She looked down at the two hands for a while with a somewhat bewildered look upon her face, wondering why she hadn't noticed this earlier. Then suddenly she snapped out of it and quickly snatched her hand back. She looked around nervously for a couple of seconds, blindly wondering if anyone on the park had seen them- after all, she had her reputation to worry about- her reputation which _didn't _involve going around holding guys' hands, even if it _was_ an accident.

Spinelli suddenly realised she was getting a little too paranoid about this, not to mention the guys were beginning to look at her funny for not saying anything in so long, so she decided to say something.

"Uhh…this is stupid!!!" This of course, happened to be the first thing that came to her mind. Stupidity appeared to be a constant factor in Spinelli's mind. "I've taken _real_ dance lessons before, and they're nothin' like this! And I understand the concept of where you're comin' from with the fast moving dance, but this slow one has nothin' to do with fighting! And one last thing- if I have to do any slow dancin' then I'm _not_ doin' it with _him_!!!"

T.J. felt a strange sensation in his chest, almost like it was sinking from the inside- an unpleasant sinking…

Vince looked between Spinelli and T.J. and groaned. "Fine then- don't listen to me! I guess that'll do for today anyway. Be ready tomorrow morning Spin- we're gonna' start bright and early!"

Vince grabbed his tape player and began walking off, as Spinelli followed after him and whined, "Bright and early? Then what in the hang did you call this morning?!"

Vince and Spinelli left the park, leaving T.J. still standing on the grass, still looking down at his hand, a little more hurt and a little more dejected than when they'd arrived…

* * *

**A/N:** If anybody out there has the Chicago soundtrack, or has seen the movie and knows the music, track #16 called 'Roxie's Suite' is exactly the kind of music that T.J. and Spinelli are dancing to ('Roxie's Suite' is the instrumental that begins just as the news truck is unloading the 'guilty' and 'innocent' newspapers, and ends somewhere after that other lady shoots that guy on the steps, if you've seen it). Just thought this might help you in really getting the mood of the story, especially the dances. Now, I really appreciate all reviews- if you'd like to leave one, you know I'd appreciate it massively!


	13. Flashback Smack

**A/N:** Aww, an update! FINALLY! I know, I know, I've had school work stapled to my forehead for the past ten weeks- sorry! Thanks to my faithful reviewers who, as usual, rock the house- Spinelli woods, Esquire, Yankee Doodle Blonde, and Clintronic Waldrop- I really love hearing all you guys' predictions and connotations on the story- after all, the reviewers thoughts are another part of what shapes the ulimate meaning and impact of a fanfiction!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter thirteen: Flashback Smack**

Another Thursday morning rolled around, the sun branching only just above the horizon, leaving a beautifully crisp golden glow upon everything its rays managed to touch.

T.J. and Vince strolled casually into Spinelli's room at five-thirty a.m., casually ripped back Spinelli's sheets, casually grabbed her by the ankles, and casually dragged her off the bed with a loud 'thud' and an even louder swear word. After much of the same protest as yesterday, Spinelli finally got dressed and left with the two boys for the school grounds.

Once they arrived there, Spinelli and T.J. again on foot, Vince suggested Spinelli start with a few dozen chin-ups to warm up. Spinelli promptly suggested Vince to 'get screwed', but did a few of the chin-ups anyway. She then progressed to do a few laps of the obstacle course, even beating yesterday's best time by a whole two seconds.

The training progressed as per yesterday, and soon enough, the kids found it was almost eight o'clock. They left for home, Spinelli trailing behind the boys, even more exhausted and bad-tempered than when she'd arrived. And that's saying something.

* * *

In the afternoon when the trio headed to the Seventh Heaven Society, Spinelli decided to slip in to her brother's office again. Even though their silences were deafeningly long and awkward, Spinelli really did love it when they actually talked. It was weird- she'd never really gotten along with her brother that well, but when he moved out it was suddenly like there was this huge gap in her life…

Vitto didn't seem at all too upset to see her either. She sat down, and after a couple of unfortunate instances of silence, Vitto finally cracked a subject that got them both talking.

"Do you…do you remember, back when you were about four…" said Vitto with a faint smile, "Do you remember when me and Joey used to try to teach you to fight?"

"You guys taught me how to fight…?" Spinelli asked, a small, warm smile forming over her lips.

Vitto smirked. "You didn't think you learnt it all on your own, did you?"

Spinelli chuckled slightly, and replied, "Well, no…I always wondered about that though- I don't even remember you guys playin' with me that much…"

"I'm not surprised." Answered Vitto, "You were only little, and we only taught you for a couple of weeks. Once mom found out we were teachin' her 'little girl' to fight- well…she wasn't too keen on the idea…"

"Yeah, she and dad haven't changed much since then…" replied Spinelli, thinking how her parents would literally have her under house arrest if they ever found she'd joined a fighters club, even if it was owned by her big brother. On second thought- _especially_ if it was owned by her big brother…

"But anyways, you guys must've done a pretty good job in those few weeks, considering I never really forgot how to fight!"

"Yeah well, me and Joey had our 'techniques'…" Vitto replied with a grin.

"Hey…exactly how _did_ you teach a four-year-old me how to fight…?"

Vitto picked up the photo frame on his desk, staring into the picture with a deep, reminiscing thoughtfulness, remembering the exact events of almost seven years ago…

* * *

Light, pattering footsteps could be heard making their way up to the second door on the right of the upstairs hallway of number 10 Maple Drive- to be more exact, it was the residency belong to that of the Spinelli family.

The home consisted of five members, two adults and three children- Roberto Vitto Spinelli- father, Florence Agatha Spinelli- mother, and their children, Joseph David Spinelli- oldest child, Vitto Roberto Spinelli- middle child, and last but not least, Ashley Vermachello Spinelli- the youngest and smallest member of the Spinelli clan.

On this particular day, little 4-year-old Ashley was making her way to her bedroom. However, about halfway down the hall she was suddenly averted from her path:

"Hey cushion pants- think fast!!!"

Before Ashley even thought to turn around, someone shoved her violently from behind, and into the first room on the right- of which she'd always been told to 'stay the hang out of', otherwise she'd get a major 'whomping'- whatever that was…

Ashley sprawled to the floor, hearing the door slam behind her, and someone laugh evilly. She sat up and turned around. There, standing in front of the door with arms folded, grinning maliciously, were the two owners of the room- Joey and Vitto Spinelli.

"W-What arwe you guys doowing…?" Ashley asked the two boys nervously, ever so slowly backing her way into the far corner of the room.

The two boys looked down at her as she crawled away, when Joey spoke up.

"Come on Ashley, there's no need to look so nervous…"

"Yeah, we're your brothers!" Vitto joined, in the same derisive tone, "What do you think we're gonna' do- _hurt_ you???"

On the last words, Ashley's back hit the corner wall.

All of a sudden, the taller, raven-haired boy leapt forward, pulled back a clenched fist, and yelled, "GONNA' GETCHA'!!!" before letting his fist fly forward right at his sister's face.

Ashley screamed and ducked, fleeing from the corner and running for the unguarded door. Unguarded that is, until her shorter, brown-haired brother stepped in front of it, grinning down at his little sister cruelly. Ashley looked up at Vitto in fear.

Her big brothers had gone crazy.

Vitto stepped forward and prodded Ashley on the chest, pushing her back very slightly. He continued to lightly shove her backwards as he began to talk:

"What's the matter cushion pants?" Vitto taunted, using the nickname he had invented, from the fact that his sister had to wear plastic, cushioned underpants at night because of her constant bed-wetting problems, "Too wussy to fight me back, huh??? Or maybe you're too scared that _mommy_ will find out- since you're such a little mama's girl and all!" Vitto had shoved Ashley about halfway across the room; his prodding and insults were beginning to get very infuriating. Ashley was close to tears when Vitto continued.

"Aww, is little baby Ashley gonna' cry? Just because her big, mean brothers are picking on her and she's too little and _scared_ to fight back!"

"I'm not _scarwed_!!!" Ashley yelled at Vitto with tears streaming down her soft, babyish cheeks.

Vitto pushed her again and laughed at her. "Well if you're not scared then hit me, runt!" Vitto shoved her back again. "I said hit me, punk!" Vitto gave her one last, forceful shove into the corner wall, and yelled:

"COME ON CUSHION PANTS- HIT ME!!!!!"

Ashley Spinelli opened her mouth and screamed. But unlike the scream before, this one didn't seem to be fuelled by fear- no, this scream was different- it was almost like- a battle cry…

Ashley clenched a tiny fist, her small knuckles turning white as she shot her fists over and over into her brother's knees. Although the hits weren't all that hard, Vitto's nine-year-old kneecaps were weak enough to feel the pain of the repetitive blows.

"Ouch! Cut it out punk!" he whimpered, backing himself into the wall on the opposite side of the room, and bending down to defend his knees with his hands.

Ashley looked up, still fuming over her brothers' violent actions, to see Vitto's face bending down just above her, inspecting his weak knees. Ashley smiled a small, innocently naughty smile.

Joey, who had been vacantly watching the whole thing from the other end of the room, noticed the look on his little sister's face and immediately knew what she was planning.

"Vitto- watch out!" yelled Joey, although not soon enough. Little Ashley balled her fist, looked up at Vitto's chin and opened her mouth:

"Hey mean bwother, tink fast!!!"

And with that, she shot her fist straight up into the underlay of Vitto's chin, sending him stumbling backwards, holding his chin in pain and shock that his four-year-old sister could give him such a powerful uppercut like that.

Ashley just held her fist in pain, just about ready to burst into tears, until she felt two arms wrap around the side of her- not in a headlock or a wrestling move, but in a hug. She looked across and saw Joey crouched down next to her, hugging her and praising her happily for finally having the guts to hit back. She suddenly forgot all about her hurting hand, turned to Joey, smiled, and hugged back.

* * *

Ten-year-old Spinelli sat in Vitto's office, confused and shocked. She suddenly looked up at Vitto with a hurt and angry look in her eyes.

"You didn't teach me how to fight- you just picked on me!!!" she yelled disgustedly.

"We weren't picking on you!" Vitto replied, shocked at Spinelli's reaction.

"Oh yeah? Well what do you call tryin' to punch me and push me and teasin' me about my bladder problems then?!?"

"Ash, we were just teachin' you to be tough! Mom and dad babied you so much I'm surprised you had any spirit left at all!"

"I had plenty of my own spirit thankyou very much!" Spinelli retorted angrily, "And it was _Joey_ who taught me to be tough- he was the one who didn't try to bash me up so roughly, and he was the one who hugged and congratulated me at the end- not _you_!!!"

Vitto looked a little wounded, and after a moment he replied softly, "Look, I didn't mean to be so rough. I'm sorry if I hurt you, I was just tryin' to help you…"

Spinelli's face softened, and she suddenly felt a horrible sensation in the pit of her stomach, much like the feeling of guilt.

"I'm sorry too." She muttered in a barely audible whisper. The two just sat there for a while, entering into one of the worst instances yet of their now regular silences. The neither knew exactly what to say, or exactly how to feel, and neither one wanted to be the first to say anything.

Finally, Spinelli's impatience got the better of her, and she asked the first random question that came into her head.

"Why don't I ever see you fighting?"

Vitto jumped a little when she spoke, almost confused that she was deciding to end the silence without a fight.

"Uhh well, I don't like to show off my moves to other competitors. And I like to stay here to keep an eye on the place."

"But can't you just go out to watch? Then you don't have to show your moves and you can still keep and eye on things out there." She rejoined.

"What are you saying? You want me to go out there with you…?" He asked slowly.

"Well…what I'm saying is…I'd kind of like it if you came out into the action. I mean, you spend all your time in here- do you even know who the members of this place are? There's a couple of guys out there that I reckon you'd be great friends—"

"Okay, okay!" Vitto interrupted, standing up from his chair and smiling in Spinelli's direction. "I'll come. But remember, I'm not doin' this for me- I'm doin' this for you…got it?"

Spinelli smiled and she stood up and walked over to the door.

"I got it. Thanks bro…"

* * *

**A/N:** Please support your local fanfic by donating a review to the blue 'go' button below. All reviews are used to help boost the self-esteem of a young Recess fan writer. Thankyou!


	14. Big Brother Is Watching

**A/N:** Go me, go me, it's my birthday, it's my birthday! Well…no, it's not really. I'm just so proud of myself for getting this next chapter out about four times faster than I usually do- go me!!! Thanks to Clintronic Waldrop, Spinelli Woods, Esquire and Yankee Doodle Blonde as always for reviewing, and as always, you guys ROCK!!!

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter fourteen: Big Brother Is Watching**

"Are you _sure_ you don't want any? They're top of the line!"

"Umm, I'm sure- I don't think I'm actually old enough for those, anyway." T.J. replied submissively to the older boy in front of him, who stood with his black trench coat open, displaying an astounding range of cigarettes and cigars poking from the many pockets of his coat.

"Pfft- that's never stopped anyone before…" The boy with the handouts just shrugged dismissively before moving away to the next bunch of kids.

"Weirdo." Said Jason, watching the hustler walk over to another bunch of kids, wondering how any normal person could offer a ten-year-old a pack of cigarettes. As Jason looked around the place, he noticed Spinelli come back through the Society doors.

"Hey guys," he said to T.J. and Vince, "Spinelli's back, and—" Jason became momentarily speechless as he saw who walked discreetly through the door behind her. "Oh boy…well, it looks as though Big Brother's finally entering the house…"

An array of gasps and excited murmurs quickly began spreading their way around the room, as all eyes turned to the renowned owner of the Seventh Heaven Society, who was rarely seen, except during tournaments when he made his sporadic debuts. It was a rare treat for members to see the owner face-to-face out in the open like this. Vitto stopped and stared back disdainfully at all the kids who were gawking at him.

He quietly but powerfully commanded, "Carry on." All kids immediately set to talking or doing what they were doing before, even if they weren't doing anything.

Spinelli led Vitto over to Jason, Vince and T.J., the latter two of whom gave Vitto a couple of genuine, but nervous smiles, and the former of whom gave Vitto a few awkward glances from the corner of his eye. Something distracted the five of them however, when someone came anxiously pushing through the crowds of kids towards the group.

Two kids were pushed apart and Tyson Tyzack showed his face, staring up at Vitto with some weird sort of glint in his eyes.

"Vitto!" he said as he walked briskly over to the group, standing right beside Vitto and looking up to him with a ridiculous grin on his face. "It's been a while since you've been out here- it's good to see you again! Guess those new surveillance cameras are really good then, eh?"

Vitto looked neutrally down at Tyson. "Uhh yeah, I guess. Thanks for those, by the way…"

"Oh, it's no problem!" Tyson said appreciatively, "Really, if there's anything else you need, just let me know and I can get it for you! Since, you know, we're such good buddies and everything…right?"

"Uhh yeah, sure, whatever…" replied Vitto, looking distractedly at the boxing ring in front of them. "Uhh Tyzack, why aren't there people in the ring???"

"Oh crap!" yelped Tyson, realising he'd left the commentary position empty so no more fights had been called up. "Uhh, come on Ashley- why don't you get up there and show your brother what you can do?" Tyson said as he grabbed Spinelli's wrist and dragged her over to the ring.

"B-But Vitto wouldda' already seen me on his surveillance cameras…that _you_ bought him- hey wait, how did _you_ afford those…?" Spinelli asked, but Tyson had already jumped down to the announcer's desk, and called out the beginning of the match to be started soon.

Spinelli climbed into the ring, and saw the other fighter and the referee climb into the ring as well. She suddenly narrowed her eyes when she recognised the referee as the oily-faced, white haired guy who'd made fun of her two days ago when she'd first entered the club with the boys. Her bitterness softened slightly when she saw that the other fighter, a young boy of about 12, looked quite friendly.

He walked to the middle of the ring and put out a handshake gesture, and introduced himself with a smile. "Hey, I'm Tommy, it's nice to meet you- you must be the one they call 'La Nina Diablo'!"

Spinelli smiled and accepted the handshake friendlily. "Call me Spinelli. It's nice to meet you, Tommy."

"Well isn't this nice!" the referee said somewhat derisively, walking up beside the two younger kids. "I'm Jack, and I'll be your referee. Now why don't we all sit down and have ourselves a little tea party!"

While they waited for the match to start, Vitto, Jason, Vince and T.J. stood quietly a couple of feet away from the edge of the ring. T.J. stood uncomfortably next to Vitto, getting very unnerved by the silence that the older boy seemed to radiate.

T.J. sighed nervously as he attempted to make some sort of conversation with the older boy.

"So Vitto…why in the hang did your brother call this place the Seventh Heaven Society anyway?"

Vitto looked distastefully down at the smaller boy and answered threateningly, "Because dork-ass, once you get in that ring, you get killed so much that we send you to heaven- seven times…"

T.J. gulped fearfully as he smiled to cover his fright of the larger, stronger male.

"Is that so…?" T.J. asked, his voice quivering slightly, "How nice…"

Up in the ring, the match was just about getting underway. Tyson's commentary voice sounded through the speakers from the announcer's table:

"…In the left corner, we have Komodooooooooooooo Dragooooooooooooooooooooon!!!"

Tommy shyly acknowledged the cheering crowd, as Vince commented to himself, "Hey- that's King Bob's fighter!"

The black-haired boy being spoken about stood outside the left corner of the ring, and encouraged his tyro confidently. "Go get 'em Tommy boy!"

"…And in the right corner, we have that kid who's just full of surprises- La Ninaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Diablooooooooooooooo!!!"

Spinelli smiled for the part of the crowd that cheered, and prepared herself as the bell to begin dinged throughout the air, and Jack stepped backwards away from the fighters.

Spinelli grinned wildly as she stepped confidently forward to Tommy, pulled back a fist, swung, and…missed. Tommy had quickly ducked out of the way, and Spinelli stumbled forward, a little shocked she didn't see that coming. She turned around, and was even more shocked to see Tommy rapidly coming at her with two bared fists and a wily smile.

"AAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!" Spinelli howled for help as she desperately tried to run away from the enraged Komodo Dragoon. Tommy chased after Spinelli in the small space of the boxing ring, resulting in the two running around and around in a little circle, encompassing the referee- of whom looked like he was about to throw up from watching the two fighters run around and around and around him.

"…And La Nina Diablo and Komodo Dragoon just continue to run rings around the ref- I'm not even sure of who's chasing who anymore!" Tyson commentated animatedly from the reviewers' table. "And our referee Jack looks like he's gettin' a bit dizzy there- could someone please tell these two this isn't a merry-go-round?!"

The audience of kids all looked on absorbedly at the display of idiotic fighting that was being put on, as every spectator shared an expression of either irritation, amusement, or just plain confusion.

T.J. looked at Vince slowly, and uttered bluntly:

"Well, at least she's _moving_…"

"Yeah," answered Vince uncertainly, "I _guess_ that's a step up…"

Tyson continued to dynamically commentate the ridiculous excuse for a fight. "…And no one seems to be giving up here- although Jack looks like he's somewhere near to throwing up and- OH!!! There it is!! Ooh, and _all _over Komodo Dragoon!!! I guess this is a case of 'Jack be nimble, Jack be sick'!!!"

The crowd went wild with laughter and disgust, as they watched Tommy screech to a halt and yell in revulsion as he attempted to wipe some of the vomit off himself.

Spinelli however, wasn't exactly paying attention to what was going on, and just kept running, only to slam into Tommy's vomit-covered back. Spinelli immediately leapt back and looked down at herself.

"EWW!!! That's SO disgusting!!!" she yelled in revolt as she too attempted to wipe away the bile.

"Ooh! And now _both_ fighters are barf-covered and looking furious!" said Tyson. "But the question is, who will they take it out on…?"

Spinelli and Tommy looked up at each other, and then over at the wheezing Jack. Tommy looked back at Spinelli and asked:

"Him…?"

And with that the two combatants leapt onto the blonde boy and started to beat him violently.

"And finally we're seein' some action again!!" Tyson exclaimed excitedly as he began reviewing the fight again.

"Wait," Vince said to T.J. over the noise of the recommenced cheering, "I think I'm startin' to see a pattern in Spinelli's fighting techniques."

"Really?" asked T.J. interestedly. "Like what?"

"Well, see how good she's fighting now?" Vince motioned towards the ring, where Spinelli was currently helping Tommy in attempting to decapitate Jack. "That's the same way she was fighting when she beat Kurst- _and_ when she beat up Randall at school. Now what did those three all have in common at the time Spinelli fought them? They had all done something to annoy Spinelli, that's what! Kurst had knocked her out and then laughed at her- Jack made fun of her and caused her to get covered in puke- and Randall had his goons beat us up and nearly beat _her _up- all things to enrage Spinelli. Don't you see Teej- the key to Spinelli's attack is her _anger_!"

"So you mean, all she has to do to be able to beat her opponents is be really mad at them?" asked T.J.

"Exactly- well, that and finish learning some proper defence."

"Aw, you mean I have to do more dancing?!" asked T.J. whiningly.

"Oh come on- you know you like it!" replied Vince provokingly.

"Watch it Vince," T.J. said, threateningly raising a fist, "Or there'll be more than one fight going on in this room…"

Meanwhile, the two older boys silently watched on with the fight. They both looked steadfastly at the ring, both too proud to look the other in the eye. Jason took a deep breath, and finally decided to break the silence between them.

"So, your sister's a pretty good fighter, huh?"

"Seems that way." Vitto replied rigidly.

"Yeah. So…it's been a while since we've talked…" Jason said stiffly.

"Yeah, it has."

Neither boy took their eyes off the fight, and they both spoke curtly, refusing to show any real emotion, even though the topic was pretty touchy for the both of them.

"So…what happened to the days when we could talk comfortably?" asked Jason.

"Guess we grew out of them." Replied Vitto.

"We used to be best buds. What happened to that?"

"People change. Friends fade. It's called growing up, you can't stop it- even if you don't like it."

"Yeah, I know." Jason said quietly, with the slightest hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "So…speaking of friends, your sister's picked some pretty nice ones, huh?"

"Yeah I guess, but that 'training partner' of hers is a real dork-ass."

"Training partner?"

"Yeah- that goof-off kid over there that looks like a monkey with freckles."

"Oh, you mean T.J.- right. But why do you think he's a dork-ass?"

"Well for one, he says 'hang' instead of hell- I mean, what the hell is up with that!"

"Maybe he's just tryin' to be polite. Swearing isn't exactly a well-mannered custom."

"Yeah well, I guess he got the right job though, I mean- a training partner is usually just another phrasing for 'human punching bag'."

"Yeah…but your sister wouldn't really be punching that much though- she's more into wrestling isn't she?"

"Well, yeah I guess…"

"So then wouldn't he be just wrestling with her…?"

"Are you _trying_ to get this guy beaten up…?"

"No! Actually the opposite- I don't think he's such a bad kid. I mean, he's goofy and all, but he's got some sort of innocent nature about him- which is more than I can say for _some_ people…"

"What are you suggesting?!"

"N-Nothing! I-I didn't mean _you_, I meant-- I was just sayin' that--" Jason sighed in frustration. "I think I remember now why we don't talk much anymore…"

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry for all the indent/non-indent switchings. I don't know why my files do that, and I can't be bothered to fix them on quick preview...Oh well.

Another thing- if you guys aren't finding this story real interesting yet, just hold on a little longer, because things start to go downhill very soon, in more ways than one…please R&R…mwahaha…


	15. He Likes You, He Likes You Not

**A/N:** Another chapter! Can you believe it?! Thanks to The Next Political Dynasty, Yankee Doodle Blonde, and XoThe RomanticoX, for reviewing! Glad you guys are enjoying the story so far!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter fifteen: He Likes You, He Likes You Not**

Spinelli and Tommy were finally pulled away from the whimpering boy called Jack, and Spinelli rejoined the gang, half smiling in satisfaction of the fight, and half grimacing in disgust of the putridness that still remained on her.

Tyson followed soon afterwards and also came to stand with the gang, placing himself quite specifically in between Spinelli and Vitto.

"Nice job, thrasher!" Tyson said with all-smiles and excitedness to Spinelli. He looked up to Vitto and grinned even more. "Guess you taught the little one pretty well, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Answered Vitto quite disinterestedly. Jason raised a suspicious eyebrow towards Tyson, that no one except Vitto happened to notice…

Tyson, if possible, grinned even more as he turned back to Spinelli, and said in a heartening, sweet voice, "You did _really_ well out there for only your third time, even if you didn't quite beat the right guy- I'm _so _proud of you! I'd give you a congratulations hug and all, but- you know…" He motioned towards the disgusting liquid down Spinelli's jacket and shirt, and Spinelli looked down, grinning and blushing slightly.

"Congratulatory." Someone said, and Tyson looked up. It was Jason- he was standing with his arms folded across his chest, and a guarded look on his face.

"What???" Tyson spat, his smiles all suddenly disappearing when he looked at Jason, and a bitter scowl replacing them.

"It's a _congratulatory_ hug. Not a 'congratulations' hug." Replied Jason offhandedly.

Tyson snorted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever! It doesn't matter." He smirked as he said, "That stuff's for nerds, anyway…"

"Hmm. I didn't know _speaking _was a nerdy thing to do nowadays." Jason replied dryly.

Tyson's icy-blue eyes lit up in anger, and he went to say something to Jason, but at the last minute his eyes seemed to rapidly glance to his sides, and he stopped himself before he did. Instead, he just took a discreetly deep breath, forced a smile to the two Spinelli siblings, said a short goodbye saying he had to get back to the announcer's table, and stiffly strode away.

Jason narrowed his eyes at the boy walking away, and then glanced down worriedly at the littler Spinelli, who was also watching Tyson walk away, but with a strange sort of goofy grin on her face.

Jason bit his lip in contemplation of whether or not to say anything to her, considering that her large, intimidating, violent-looking older brother was standing right near her. Finally Jason just sighed and decided to take the chance, knowing he had to say what he needed to say to Spinelli- it was for her own wellbeing.

"Spinelli," Jason called. Both Vitto and Ashley looked to him, and he suddenly realised he was in fact addressing both the Spinelli siblings. "Uhh, I meant Ashley," Jason jumped a little at the disapproving glare he got from the younger Spinelli girl for calling her by her much hated first name. He rolled his eyes in frustration and just looked at the younger Spinelli, and said, "_You_!"

Jason settled down, and suddenly became very serious. "Listen, I don't want to be telling you what to do or anything, but Tyson..." He looked over his shoulder to where Tyson was for a moment, then looked back at Spinelli, "He's not someone I think you should be friends with..."

Jason glanced for a second at Vitto, expecting him to be angry, or at least a little guarded, that he was telling his little sister who not to be friends with, especially when Vitto had not long ago confessed to him his disapproval of T.J., but hadn't said anything to his sister. But he wasn't looking in the least angry- in fact, he seemed to be listening interestedly to what Jason said. His face showed no emotion, but still, you could tell he was listening to what he had to say.

The other Spinelli however, the little one, looked confused, and a little angry- more so than usual. "Why in the hang not?!"

"Listen," Jason said sincerely, bending down to look Spinelli in the eyes to prove his seriousness, "It's a great thing to give everyone a fair chance with friendship, I know it takes some people _years_ to be able to make friends properly- but Tyson…well, let's just say I know him a little better than most people, and that boy isn't a very good influence on anyone. He isn't a good guy to have as your 'friend'…"

Spinelli contemplated on Jason's words for a moment. Jason seemed like a pretty smart guy, and he claimed to know Tyson pretty well, although she wasn't quite sure how. But Tyson was always so _nice_ to her- not to mention he was a tough, sly, take-no-crap kinda' kid just like her; it seemed to her that they were so similar it would be a shame not to be friends with the guy. Not to mention he was older, cooler, and had those rebellious ice-blue eyes…

Suddenly that seemed to decide it.

"Aww come on!" she rebutted to Jason, "Tyson's a good friend! Sure he's a little crafty sometimes, but so am I! I think you just don't want me and Tyson to be friends because you two ram heads so much! He mightn't be too friendly to _everyone_, but he is to me!"

"But Spinelli, you don't understand Tyson like _I_ do!" Jason looked around for support. He asked Vitto, "You know him pretty well, you guys hang out a fair bit- what do you think of Tyson?"

Vitto looked a little startled he was being pulled into this particular conversation, and just remained impassive, shrugging his shoulders impartially.

Spinelli looked to Jason again and concluded, "Look Jase, I'm not gonna' stop bein' friends with Tyson just because you think he's a bad influence- heck, alotta' people think _I'm_ a bad influence-"

T.J. smirked. "Yeah, including my mom!"

Vince smiled. "And mine! And Gretchen's, Gus's and Mikey's parents- then there's Prickly, Finster, King Freddie, that guy down the street from you, the postman, the old lady next door, your _own_ parents-"

"OKAY!" Spinelli yelled, getting discomfited at the long list of people who considered her to be a bad influence of some sort. "I'm just sayin' Jase, Tyson can be a good friend to people when he wants to. Maybe you just don't know him as well as you think…"

Jason frowned, unnoticed by Spinelli, who turned to T.J. and Vince and asked, "You guys ready to go?"

"Uhh yeah, I guess." They both answered, not prepared to argue with Spinelli when she appeared to be getting a little fired up.

"Well, thanks for comin' out here Vitto- you should do it more often." Spinelli said to her brother, "You're such a celebrity around here, you should at least take advantage of it by letting the kids stare at you with awe more often!" She then turned to Jason and said a little more blandly, "Tell Tyson I said bye."

And then the three kids left for the door. T.J. turned around to say goodbye to Vitto, but shut his mouth and decided better of it when he saw the look on Vitto's face, which clearly read:

_'Just keep walking, dork-ass, just keep walking…'_

* * *

The trio walked through the park on their way home, or to training, whichever Vince would end up deciding, as the sun began to touch the horizon through the trees. The boys both had something on their minds which they had been noticing for a while now, and which they had been meaning to talk to Spinelli about. T.J. decided since no conversation was occurring now, he may as well try and ease the topic into conversation.

"Uhh, so Spin, you reckon Tyson's a pretty cool guy, huh?"

Spinelli raised an eyebrow, wondering why T.J. was asking a question like this when she'd just been through a similar conversation with Jason.

"Yeah, he's real cool."

"So…have you noticed at all the way he acts around you?" asked Vince.

Spinelli got even more suspicious of where the conversation was going. "What do you mean 'the way he acts around me'?"

"Oh, you know," said Vince, "Just the way he always comes and stands real close to you, and praises you for all your fights-"

"And how he always puts his arm around your shoulders?" added T.J., with a slight hint of bitterness entering his voice.

Spinelli stopped walking and looked at the two boys sceptically. "What are you guys getting at…?"

T.J. and Vince looked at her awkwardly, questioning whether or not it was safe to say what they wanted to say to their violent little friend.

"Uhh…" Vince stumbled, trying to think of a way to say what he needed to without getting a mouthful of Madame Fist. "We think Tyson might…'_like you'_ like you, if you catch my drift…"

"And not in the lovey-dovey pukey Dawson's Creek kinda' way." Said T.J. sardonically, "More like in the seedy, sleazy, my-mom's-gonna'-kill-us-if-she-finds-out-we're-watching-_this_-movie kinda' way…"

Spinelli stared at him for a second, and then just shook her head. "That's just stupid, Teej! Tyson's like, three years older than me- he's a teenager- I'm just a kid! There's no _way_ he'd '_like'_ like someone like _me_!" Exclaimed Spinelli, with the smallest, subtlest hint of disappointment. "And besides- that kinda' stuff's just gross altogether! I'd deck any guy if I thought they 'liked' me like _that_!!!"

For some strange reason, T.J. suddenly found his shoelaces incredibly interesting. He could feel his face tingling with a pinkish-red; he figured he just was embarrassed about perhaps getting the wrong idea about Tyson's friendship with Spinelli, although somehow he knew that wasn't the real reason…

"Look guys, I don't wanna' have this conversation _again_- Tyson Tyzack and I are _friends_, nothing more, nothing less- and it's gonna' _stay_ that way regardless of who likes it or not!"

Spinelli let out a little flustered grumble, and tried calming herself down. She looked to Vince and asked impatiently, "So are we gonna' be training tonight or not???"

"Uhh, I guess not…" answered Vince, not wanting to give himself another chance to light Spinelli's already short fuse. He also didn't want to see T.J. get in Spinelli's bad books, for some weird reason. "I guess we'll just call it a night then, 'kay guys? I'll see you two in the morning."

"I'd rather you didn't." Spinelli replied, beginning to walk home as well. T.J. followed after her, heading out of the park towards the street labelled 'Maple Drive', casually conversing about the afternoon's events.

"You know Spinelli, I'm starting to get this weird feeling that Vitto isn't too fond of me..."

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**A/N:** If there's some things that don't make sense, or you don't understand just yet, don't worry because they'll (hopefully…) make sense in the long run- I'm just 'dropping hints' and making some intentions clear a little early so things later on will make sense…if _that_ made any sense…oh well. Next chapter up soon! For now, please help a lonely fan fictioner out by leaving a heart-warming review! It'd be _very_ much appreciated!


	16. Fighting In A Different Sense

**A/N: **Hey guys- I'm gonna' be quick today coz I'm kinda in a rush- thankyou to The Next Political Dynasty, Peaches The First, Yankee Doodle Blonde, and Aaweth for reviewing and thanks to Clintronic Waldrop for both reviews (sorry I missed you last chapter). These are some of the most heart-warming reviews I've received in ages- you guys have put the passion for writing back into me! THANKYOU!!!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter sixteen: Fighting in a _different_ sense**

Another early morning rolled around, _again_, and the light of the newly risen sun reflected a nice white glow on everything it touched, _again_. Two boys boisterously threw open a young girl's bedroom door, _again_, and rapidly ripped back her bed sheets, _again_.

One thing that hadn't happened before however that the boys hadn't counted on, was the young girl lying on her back, her arms spread to the sides of the bed, where her wrists were bound to the bed slats with two thick bike chains.

"Ha, ha, ha- SUCKERS!!!" gloated Spinelli, lying there in her pyjamas with a smug grin on her face. "Now you've GOTTA' let me stay in bed! Bet you didn't think of THIS, huh!! That's 'coz I'm TOO SMART for you idiots!!! MWA HA HA HA HA!!!!!"

T.J. and Vince just stood there looking at Spinelli as if she'd lost her mind. And with good reason.

T.J. looked down at the chains and said, "Uhh Spinelli? You know there's no lock on those chains, right?" He bent down and touched one of the chains lightly. It slipped off Spinelli's wrist and fell pathetically to the ground. Spinelli then slipped sulkily off the bed and fell pathetically to the ground.

"You guys whomp." Spinelli said morosely from her curled up position on the floor.

T.J. smiled. "We whomp because we _care_."

* * *

Not long after, Spinelli was running laps of the obstacle course on the playground. She stumbled across the course, seemingly not caring how badly she went, and obviously not trying at all. She was entirely exhausted from the past three days' training schedules, and she couldn't help but think to herself every three seconds or so how much this was all Vince and T.J.'s fault.

Spinelli finally pulled up next to Vince at the end of the lap, puffing lightly and folding her arms over her chest, looking at Vince with a glare that clearly said, 'You better say something good or else…'

"Tsk, tsk, Spin- ten minutes, fifty-seven seconds." Vince answered as his stopwatch beeped to a halt. He didn't bother to look up at Spinelli's already flaming eyes, just looked disappointedly at the digital time that read on the stopwatch. "You're getting worse again. In my honest opinion, I think you're capable of halving that time. You don't seem to be motivated to train!"

Spinelli gritted her unbrushed teeth for a second, then snapped. "I just don't see how _any_ of your lousy training is actually going to _help_!!! You don't have to climb up and down Old Rusty fifty times to know how to fight! I learn more off watching Saturday night WWE than I do from YOU!!!"

Vince narrowed his eyes. "You know Spin, I _really_ don't like your attitude."

"Really???" Spinelli said, walking right up to Vince with a fed-up look in her eyes. "Because I _really_ don't like YOU!!!!!"

Suddenly there was silence upon the playground. Vince glared at Spinelli. Spinelli stared angrily at Vince. T.J. half expected a tumbleweed to roll through the playground. Vince faintly shook his head. "You just never learn, do you?"

"Oh come on!" Spinelli said to Vince in an almost taunting tone, "You've been putting me through all this crap saying you know what you're doing- if you're so tough and experienced with fighting then let's go- right here, RIGHT NOW!!!" Spinelli put up her fists, a furious glint glaring out her dark eyes.

Vince stood up straight, and looked down at Spinelli.

"Right, that's it Spin- I've had it." Spoke Vince in a steadfast, completely serious tone. "You broke your promise for the last time. You can coach yourself…"

Vince strode off, Spinelli watching after him in slight shock. She had expected a comeback, an insult, even a punch to be swung- but she hadn't expected him to react like _that_…

"Vince, wait!" cried T.J., to no avail. The tall, dark boy walked off the playground, and out of the school grounds, completely disappearing from sight of the two kids left standing on the blacktop.

"What's up _his_ butt???" asked Spinelli, looking to T.J. for support.

T.J. turned around and looked brusquely at Spinelli. "He's right you know!!! You broke your promise _so_ many times- and Vince is your _friend_- he believed in you, why couldn't you just trust him???"

"I…I didn't think…" Spinelli uttered, kind of taken aback of how T.J. was defending Vince and not her, especially after all he'd put the two of them through, and especially since, well, T.J. usually _always_ defended _her_…

T.J. turned on Spinelli crossly. "You know what Spinelli? That _is_ your problem. Vince _was_ right all along. You _don't_ think." T.J. advanced on her, looking into her dark, confused eyes with his own enraged, yet pleading eyes. "You just jump into things and say things without thinking about the promises you made to others, or how other people will feel, or if you're _hurting_ other people by the things you're doing!" T.J. was positively fuming, as he now stood practically yelling in Spinelli's face. "Did you ever once stop to think that the insulting comments you make about Vince's training might actually hurt his feelings!? Or that disrespecting Jason's warnings about Tyson might make him feel offended!?! Or that refusing to dance with me like I'm some disgusting freak of nature would make me feel _bad_!?!?"

For the second time that morning, silence filled the playground. And for once in her life, Spinelli was speechless.

She had no idea her friends had felt this way, and frankly, it kind of shocked her to hear it like this. She just stared at T.J., contemplating over and over in her mind what he had said, for the first time noticing how much the colour of his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day…

T.J. however, just stared at Spinelli, wondering how she could be so blind to people's emotions like she was. He finally just stormed off the playground like Vince had, leaving Spinelli standing there, completely alone…

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**A/N:** Ooh…conflict finally…man, my document word count was 1098, but the word count for this chapter on fanfiction net is 1089...if anybody finds my nine missing words, please return them promptly to me, preferably in review form. But even if you don't happen to know what happened to my missing words, please R&R!!!


	17. Home Run Away

**A/N: **Guys, you all seriously rock my socks off. Not only do you give me my first 100 reviews for the Recess Monkey Poems, but then you go and review _this_ story as well??? Do you guys rock or what?! A massively huge thanks to _The Next Political Dynasty_ (thanks for making it 100!), _Yankee Doodle Blonde_, _Clara_, _Akiko Toshika_, _Clintronic Waldrop_ (Woo hoo- DW Gavin moment!!! Thankyou so much!) and _thesolitary-dragon_ (Thanks again for the awesomely long review!) for reviewing!!! I LOVE it when you guys pinpoint the EXACT things I'm trying to convey in the story! Could I get any better reviewers than you guys??? (Silence) Guess not! Read away, rockin' reviewers!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter seventeen: Home Run Away**

For the rest of the day, a typhoon of bitterness and short temperedness stormed its way around the schoolyards, muttering cheesed off phrases and kicking any poor kid who got remotely in the path of her walking.

"Stupid lousy stinkin'…can't believe those guys…after all I've done for them…I oughtta' kick both of them in their- HEY YOU KID! GET OUTTA' MY WAY!!!"

This typhoon, as usual, went by the name of Spinelli.

All day she stomped around school kicking things, punching things, swearing at things, and explaining to Gretchen over and over how much T.J. and Vince were the wrong ones in this situation.

"You see Gretch, Vince and Teej are just too stubborn to see that they're wrong!" Spinelli continued as they stood in the lunch line of the cafeteria, "And you know why? Because they're-"

"EVIL! I KNOW!!!" Gretchen snapped, "Vince and T.J. are evil! I've got it!! You've already told me that 167 times today!!! Not to mention the 26 notes you passed me in class, all stating 'V & TJ = evil. Boys are stupid. What's the answer to number nine?'- six of those notes got me a detention you know!!!"

"Yeah, but have I expressed to you the _extent_ of their evilness???"

"YES!!!"

"Oh…well I'll tell you again!"

Gretchen groaned as the two of them headed over to the lunch tables. Gretchen sat down next to Gus and Mikey, and Spinelli was about to do the same, until she saw T.J. and Vince standing on the other side of the table, also about to sit down.

The three scowled at each other for a moment, before grabbing their lunch trays and heading to other tables on opposite sides of the room.

Mikey and Gus looked from T.J. and Vince at the table to the left of them, to Spinelli at the table on the right, then back at the boys, and back at Spinelli.

Gus shook his head confusedly. "Do they _know_ they're not sitting next to each other…?"

Mikey shrugged. "Maybe it has something to do with Spinelli's new 'condition'."

"I certainly hope so," Said Gretchen with a hidden smirk, "Because Spinelli's being far too annoying for any _normal _minded person…"

* * *

Typhoon Spinelli got even more angry walking home that afternoon, when she realised she would have to wait another six hours to vent her anger, as it was a Friday, and the SHS didn't start until nine at night.

This raised another problem, and even more anger, in that Spinelli was usually in bed by nine o'clock. How was she going to get out of the house without her parents noticing?

"Dang it!!!" she yelled as she kicked a rock from the road high into the stratosphere. "Of all the lousy times for T.J. and his plan-making mind to get in a fight with me!"

Spinelli decided when she got home that after she 'went to bed' she would simply have to sneak out her window and climb down the guttering, since her room was on the second floor of the house. Then all she'd have to do is run over to Rosewood Drive, and she'd be home free. Literally.

So, that's exactly what she did. After 'going to bed' at 8:30, already dressed in her street clothes, she waited until her bedside clock read 9:00 to slip out of bed, placing a few pillows under the covers where her body would lay, just in case. She tiptoed her way towards the window, along the way stepping on a stray piece of Lego ("Lousy Lego…"), an upturned spiky hairbrush ("Lousy hairbrush…"), and various jagged crumbs of dry cereal ("Lousy T.J. and Vince…").

After she made her quite painful trip to the windowsill, she carefully and quietly as she could tried to pull up the window. So of course, it made an incredible amount of noise, making Spinelli jump in shock of the loudness, causing her to drop the window, and resulted in her jamming her fingers between the heavy windowpane and the ledge. She bit her lip as hard as she could to stop herself from yelping out in pain, and her face went red as she groaned inwardly and snatched her hand back from the window trap, clutching her throbbing fingers delicately with her other hand.

Once the throbbing receded to aching, Spinelli reopened the window, again with more than enough clatter than was wanted. She put on her boots, and lifted her right leg out the window and hung it over the frame, ducking her head under the top of the window and then swinging her left leg outside too. She looked to the left and saw the pipe from the guttering running down beside the window. This was going to be the hard part.

Spinelli sat herself on the far left side of the window and reached for the pipe with both hands. She propped her feet against the nearest support hold, where the piping was connected to the side of the house via a steel bracket, and then swung around off the window, so she was now completely hanging from the piping. She began to climb down, using the brackets as support holds.

Spinelli was about halfway down the house, thinking to herself that this was actually turning out to be quite easy, when she heard a funny kind of whimpering noise from down below her. She suddenly tensed up, wondering if someone had seen her. She looked down over her shoulder and was relieved upon seeing the source of the whimpering noise.

"Hey Scruffy!" Spinelli whispered to the patchy brown, black, white and grey dog, who was pacing excitedly below her. "Don't worry, it's just me, boy."

Scruffy looked up at the girl in energized puzzlement, wondering what this animal was doing crawling down the side of his owners' house. In excitement and vigilance, Scruffy let out a series of noisy, boisterous barks.

"Scruffy- NO! Keep quiet boy!!!" Spinelli whispered urgently to the dog, who just kept restlessly pacing below her, looking up to Spinelli with an innocent, naïve expression.

Suddenly Spinelli froze as she heard a voice yell from inside the house:

"Scruffy, keep your trap shut out there!!!" Spinelli heard her dad bellow to the russet dog. She quickly decided to get a move on and climbed faster down the piping. However, as she almost reached the ground, Scruffy began to get overexcited, and began barking more loudly and more frenziedly than before.

"No boy! Shhh!!!" She whispered urgently, but it was too late. She saw a faint light spread out near the front of the house from the porch light, and heard the clicks and creaks of the front door being opened. Her dad was coming to check on Scruffy.

Spinelli panicked, realising there was no way she could climb back up the piping in time, and leapt down from the pipe onto the ground a few feet below. She decided to made a break for the neighbour's fence- if she could run over and jump over that before her dad came around the corner, she could hide until he went away, and then make a break for it. It was a great plan, unfortunately for the fact that there was now something latched to her leg- which, generally, she needed to run with.

Scruffy, who was still confused as to this unknown creature crawling down the side of his owners' house, had decided to kick in his protection mechanism and attack the assumed intruder, by latching his teeth to their ankles. Luckily for her, Spinelli's boots stopped her dog's teeth from piercing her skin, but unfortunately it still prevented her from running anywhere- which was a real shame, because her dad was coming towards the side of the house, and fast.

Spinelli frantically tried to flick her leg from Scruffy's grasp, but nothing worked. She could see her dad's stretched shadow nearing from around the corner, and panicked. With one almighty heave she hissed at Scruffy, "You stupid dog!!!", and drew her leg from his mouth, accidentally booting him in the head with the backlash from her boot heel. Scruffy let out a loud yelp, and Spinelli ran for the fence.

She vaulted herself over the wooden palings and ducked behind them, just as her dad walked around the corner of her house, yelling at Scruffy for making so much noise in the middle of the night.

Spinelli silently breathed a sigh of relief, before peering through the wooden palings sympathetically at the whimpering brown dog, hoping sadly that she didn't kick him too hard.

As soon as her dad walked back inside the house and turned the porch light off, Spinelli belted out of the neighbour's yard, sprinting as fast as her body would take her all the way to 6/66 Rosewood Drive.

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**A/N: **Again, you guys rock to forever and back (I know that didn't make sense...shut up, shut up...), and I hope you know it. You all rock. You really do!

Please review!


	18. Angry White Girl Polka Dot

**A/N:** Sorry it's been so long since I updated guys, but I just had two trials for major exams, plus my art body of work all in three big days, and I've had to study, and actually _finish_ the artwork and…well, you don't need to hear about my school problems, because the chapter's here now! A massively massive thanks to my reviewers- Peaches the First, The Next Political Dynasty, Yankee Doodle Blonde, Lindsay, thesolitarydragon, Clintronic Waldop and DW Gavin! Wow! You guys are rockin'!!!!!

Now, I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter- it's about 1000 words longer than the last one, so I hope it satisfies!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter eighteen: Angry White Girl Polka-Dot**

"Skirmish." Spinelli said to the slit in the door, as the door was opened at the mention of the password.

She tramped in exhaustedly, heading straight down the dark, cold corridor for the Society door. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the door into the intense, violent atmosphere, feeling the tension flowing out of her body and straight into her fists.

She ran straight over to the crowd of onlookers to the current fight, unusually overwrought and anxious to see some sort of bloodshed. The current match involved two girls in what appeared to be some sort of deadlock wrestling hold, both of them trying to make their opponent 'tap out' in pain.

Spinelli watched the struggle between the two combatants, and quickly became frustrated at the lack of hardcore carnage being displayed. She yelled aggravatedly into the ring:

"C'mon!!! Where's the blood?! I at least wanna' see a broken limb here!!!"

Spinelli herself wasn't quite sure why she was feeling so bloodthirsty tonight- it seemed to be fuelled out of some intense rage she was feeling. Maybe she was just cranky because she was tired. She was usually asleep at this time, and the past few mornings considered, she really needed all the sleep she could get.

But maybe, somewhere deep down in her subconscious, she thought her particularly infuriated mood could possibly be traced back to this morning, and the argument she entered into with her two male friends. The things they said might have perhaps had an influence on her, might have perhaps shocked her a little, hearing all these objections on her attitude- might have even _hurt_ her a little. Of course something like that would make her angry. She was angry that she didn't have two sidekicks hanging by her side tonight, but at the same time she was really glad they weren't there, after all the things they'd said to her. Yes, reconsidering, it seemed the good ol' Seventh Heaven Society was one place where she didn't have to see—

"TEEJ AND VINCE?!?!" Spinelli yelled in bafflement and irritation as she spotted the two boys standing across the room, watching the fight intently. She immediately shoved her way through the crowd to the other side of the room and came and stood aggressively in front of them, her arms stiffly down by her side, her fists clenched impulsively, and her bottom lip classically pouting out from its usual placement.

"What in the hang are you guys doin' here!?!" She demanded, glaring at the two boys irately. How dare they intrude her own sanctuary of violence when they had clearly split up this morning. The boys however, refused to look her back in the eye, and just kept their attention focussed on the fight as they answered impassively.

"Watching the fight." Said Vince.

"You know what I mean!" yelled Spinelli, "_Why_ are you guys here!? In case you didn't notice, we had a fight this morning, and you guys wouldn't talk to me all day so I_ assume _we're not friends anymore!!!" This was only a partial defence of Spinelli's behalf, considering the fact that _she_ hadn't attempted to talk to the guys all day either, and she knew it.

"In case _you_ didn't notice," answered T.J. in a slightly derisive tone, "We're rightful members of this club too. We're trainers, we were invited here, and we know the password. Just because _you_ brought us here doesn't mean we have to stop coming here _because_ of you…"

Spinelli tried to say something in return, but found herself quite unable to speak. She stood back and relented, finally just sneering scornfully and striding off, trying to save what little pride she felt she had left.

Spinelli felt so overcome with provocation and defeat at not being able to contest to the boys, she felt like she was about to explode with a huge burst of profanities and kicking of things. She cynically decided to move somewhere where it would be put to good use. So, after the current fight had finally finished- with only the loss of two teeth and a clump of hair- Spinelli went to pay a visit to Tyson, who was predictably standing near the ring, looking for more fighters.

"Can I go next???" she asked as she approached the bandanna boy without so much as a hello.

"Well hello to you too, thrasher." Tyson laughed, his faint freckles grouping together on his cheek lightly. "Sure you can go next. But you might wanna' know it's--"

"Yeah, thanks buddy!" Spinelli interrupted as she crawled into the ring, too anxious to rip someone's limbs off imagining T.J. or Vince's head on their body, for any sort of idle chitchat.

She stood in the ring restlessly waiting for the fight to start, when her competitor climbed into the ring on the opposite side. It was a young boy- he looked only a little older than herself, probably about twelve or so- and he was small in build, but like her you could tell he probably had a lot of power in that small body of his. He had auburn coloured hair, and Spinelli briefly noted his light green eyes- they looked very kind, very wholesome.

But as kind as her opponent's eyes were, Spinelli couldn't help thinking about how much she was going to ground him into chalk dust. At least, she _thought _that.

Suddenly Spinelli felt something being wrapped around her eyes- by Tyson she guessed, too, from the startlingly cold touch on her cheeks. Tyson's hands were always cold.

"What in the hang is this???" Spinelli asked Tyson as her vision was depleted by the black and blue polka-dotted rag being tied around her eyes.

"A blindfold." Spinelli heard Tyson answer dumbly. "Didn't you know? Fridays are games nights here at the SHS! We have some fun rounds like this where we put the fighters in weird situations. It stirs up the play a little- basically it gives the spectators somethin' funny to look at. I mean, have you ever watched two blindfolded kids stumblin' around tryin' to bash each other up? It's a laugh riot!"

Tyson finished doing up Spinelli's blindfold and turned her to face in the right direction. He stepped out of the ring and almost immediately the starter bell dinged.

Spinelli just stood pat, not knowing what to do in the bizarre situation. She heard the other competitor moving somewhere, then felt a light, cold breeze swish past her left ear.

She suddenly realised that punches were being swung at her and stumbled back and into the side ropes. She grabbed onto the ropes for dear life and felt her way around the outside of the ring by holding onto them.

Spinelli could hear the audience beginning to chuckle, and suddenly became aware of her cowering position in the corner of the ring. She stood up confidently, not wanting to diminish any of her dignity, and remembered that T.J. and Vince were standing somewhere in the laughing crowd before her. She couldn't have them seeing her cowering from a fight like this- she needed to show them that she could be a great fighter without them- she needed to show them she could do just fine on her own…

The other fighter was feeling their way around too, as Spinelli soon found out when their hand landed on her shoulder. Spinelli decided to take the opportunity, confident that the fighter must be standing in front of her, and swung a punch…into thin air.

The audience cracked up watching the Girl Devil swing so completely off her target. Spinelli went red in embarrassment, before going red with pain and even more humiliation when she felt something swipe across her upper calves, taking her feet away from under her, and landing her flat on her butt in the middle of the ring.

The audience reacted with laughter yet again, making Spinelli's face go even redder, and making her blood boil even hotter.

She ground her teeth together in frustration and leapt to her feet, growling viciously at the virtually invisible opponent.

She suddenly heard a noise over by the left side of the ring, and turned that way and began to swing wildly and ferociously at the air. She heard the competitor scuffling to the other side of the ring, and spun around, swinging punches for all she was worth. Again it was in vain- the other fighter had split to another part of the ring once more.

The large, unnecessarily vigorous swings Spinelli was throwing were beginning to make her worn out, and the way she kept running around the ring after the sounds of the other fighter was beginning to make her very confused and frustrated. She made a loud, irritated yell into the heavens- only realising her huge mistake until _after_ she had acted…

Within a few seconds after her location had been blown, Spinelli was knocked face first onto the floor and held down with an impressive wrestling restraint hold. She struggled all she could under the arrest of the other fighter, but it was no use- he had her pinned down indefinitely.

Spinelli could hear Tyson counting the 'out' numbers, until he got to ten, when a bell dinged through the air and the audience broke out into their classic hybrid boo/cheer routine.

The weight of the other fighter was suddenly lifted off her and she sat up, ripping off her blindfold and throwing it down furiously onto the boxing ring floor. She looked up bitterly to see the winner, the kind eyed boy, standing there with a hand out, graciously gesturing to help her up.

Spinelli scowled. "I don't need your HELP!!!"

She stood up and strode out of the ring, grinding her teeth together so hard it was a surprise she had any left by the end of the night. She stormed across the room to the door, opening it and slamming it shut again forcefully, and walked out into the cold, shadowy corridor, so she could be alone and wouldn't have to talk to anyone, especially T.J. or Vince.

She sat down on the floor and immediately felt the dank, unpleasantly cold concrete underneath her almost seep into her body. She drew her knees up to her chin, folded her arms and pouted resentfully. The distasteful feeling she had brewing up inside her was fuelled by the sudden feeling of isolation- not only isolation in this dark, unwelcoming corridor from the rest of the Society, but also the isolation she was feeling from her former friends.

Of course they'd fought before, but this time seemed to be hitting her harder than it normally did. Was it something T.J. and Vince had said to her that made this time seem so much more difficult than the other fights? Something about how insensitive and unthinking the guys thought she was that made her so much more furious than she normally would have been?

Spinelli felt so abandoned- so deserted- so, even daresay, helpless- that any friend who was to offer her a welcoming hand at that moment would surely not be turned down…

"Hey thrasher…" an all-too-familiar voice called from Spinelli's right. She grinned widely, all of a sudden forgetting her anger when she laid eyes upon the boy with the black bandanna and icy blue eyes…

"Hey Tyson," Spinelli greeted somewhat shyly, "What are you doin' out here?"

"Lookin' for you of course!" Tyson replied sweetly as he came and sat down next to Spinelli in the dark, unwelcoming corridor. "Somethin's wrong, ain't it?"

Spinelli rubbed her arms awkwardly. Were her feelings _that_ obvious…?

"Whaddya' mean?" She replied innocently.

Tyson smirked. "Well come on- no offence or anything, but your fighting _sucked_ out there! You're not concentrating- you've obviously got somethin' else on your mind. So spill it, what's wrong?" Tyson paused to look around for a second. "Hey by the way, where are your tag-alongs???"

Spinelli sighed bitterly. "I don't know and I sure as heck don't care!!!" Spinelli clenched her fist reflexively, and then looked to Tyson, and promptly settled herself down enough to elaborate.

"They _are_ the problem. The three of us had…well, we had fight this mornin'. And the guys said some stuff to me that hurt my- well…some stuff that I wasn't ready for…"

Tyson inconspicuously moved closer to Spinelli, and put his arm consolingly around her shoulders. "You wanna' tell me about it?"

Spinelli unconsciously leaned into Tyson's comforting hold as she continued, "Nah, I don't really wanna' go into the details…it's just that the things they said…and the way they've acted since then…it's just made me so…so…so angry! I hate it when people tell me things that I don't want to hear! Especially when they're bad things about _me_! I mean, who do those two think they are?! First Vince goes and gets all psycho at me for nothin', and then _T.J._…T.J. goes and backs Vince up on what he's sayin'! I mean T.J…T.J.'s meant to back _me_ up! That's what friends do, right???"

Spinelli thought bitterly for a moment, now unthinkingly leaning into Tyson's sturdy, comforting chest, "Then maybe T.J. isn't the friend I thought he was…"

The two of them stayed silent for a while, in the same position as before- Tyson with his arm protectively around Spinelli's shoulder, and Spinelli with her head resting lightly on Tyson's rebel-chiselled chest.

Tyson rubbed Spinelli's arm soothingly, in an attempt to both calm her down and warm her up. He looked down at the younger girl with both liking and intrigue, and teetered on the brink of asking a tricky question.

"Hey Ashley, uhh…you wanna'…uhh…you wanna' come over to my house…?"

Spinelli looked up at Tyson with a little surprise, moving suddenly out of his comforting grasp. "What- now? Jeez, I dunno'…" replied Spinelli sheepishly, "It's _really_ late, and I should probably be gettin' home so mom and dad don't realise I'm gone. And besides, your parents probably wouldn't like you bringing home a gir- uhh, a friend, at this hour…"

Tyson grinned, intrigued by her innocence. "Naw, it's okay, I live with my uncle- he doesn't give a damn about what I do or who I bring home- and my older brother- but he won't be home tonight…"

"Well…" Spinelli answered slowly, wondering what she should do. A familiar boy's soft, young voice ran through her mind just like it had so many times before- telling her to do the sensible thing, telling her not to get herself tangled up with trouble, telling her not to toy with danger, telling her that Tyson Tyzack was nothing but trouble…

Her instincts and gut-feelings had always told her to go with this voice- that this kid knew what he was talking about- that it would keep her out of trouble's way. But ever since yesterday morning's incidents, that voice was the last one she felt like listening to…

"Well…" she replied swayingly, teetering on the decision ever so perilously.

"Come on…" Tyson spoke in a low, soothing voice, as he slowly and smoothly slipped his arm back around Spinelli's shoulders, "And I'll make you forget all about your stupid 'friends'…"

That was all Spinelli needed to hear to be out the Society door, laughing and joking around with the blonde hood as they walked down the dimly lit street, with Tyson's arm around her shoulders…

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**A/N: **Did anyone happen to get the 'Weird' Al Yankovic pun in the chapter title? Oh well, it doesn't matter if you didn't, it's not important. What _is _important is that you let me know what this chapter, and what this story is like! And you know the quickest and easiest way to do that…? Yes, you do…it starts with an 'r' and ends with 'eview'…


	19. This Ain't Kids' Stuff Anymore

**A/N: **I know, I know- I'm _really_ sorry this update took so long, but I have a good excuse- this chapter's like, twice the size than any of the chapters so far. And besides that, it was quite a hard chapter to write. Anyway, ALOT of important stuff happens in this chapter- it's a kind of 'turning point' as far as 'good guys' and 'bad guys' go...well, you'll get it once you read it. A massive THANKYOU to The Next Political Dynasty, Yankee Doodle Blonde, Akiko Toshika, thesolitary-dragon, and Peaches the First (who gets points for picking the horrible pun in the last chapter title...)

I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter, becuase it took alot of time and effort to write (even though the result probably isn't very good anyway...) Oh well. Here it is nonetheless.

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter nineteen: This Ain't Kid's Stuff Anymore **

"Where'd Spinelli shoot off to???" Vince asked as he scanned the room, missing out on watching a very interesting fight in the ring a few metres away, where four fighters were currently battling it out, while being tied around the waist to one of the other fighters.

"I don't know and I sure in the hang don't care!" replied T.J., in a tone very similar to one used by a raven-haired young girl in a similar sentence that night…

"Well didn't you see where she went?" asked Vince persistently.

T.J. adjusted his red baseball cap aggravatedly, and practically yelled at Vince through the roaring crowd, "I don't watch her every step Vince!!!"

Vince paused in his searching to look down at T.J. with a kind of disappointed look in his eyes. "You usually do…"

Vince turned his attention emptily up to the fight, and T.J. just looked at Vince, contemplating on what he had just said, adjusting his cap- not in anger this time, but in a habitual tendency he usually took up when he was a little worried about something…

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Two figures reached the end of the very dark, foreboding, dimly lit street of Rosewood Drive, turning their walking path from the filthy street to a decrepit three-story block of rundown apartments. They walked up the flimsy, metallic, exterior steps to the third floor, and walked inside the door on the far right of the balcony.

Tyson held the door open for Spinelli, and she stepped with slight hesitance inside, examining the innards of a very neglected apartment lounge room. She walked further inside as Tyson shut the door behind them, not bothering with any of the many locks on the door.

"Aren't you gonna' lock any of those?" Spinelli asked, thinking of how paranoid her parents at home usually were of night safety procedures.

"Nah, there's nothin' in here worth stealin' anyways." Tyson replied as he grinned a wily grin and put his arm around her shoulders once again. "Come to think of it, you're the only thing in this place that's of any value to me…"

Spinelli blushed and turned away in flattered embarrassment, not noticing Tyson's own laughter at his comment- almost as if it were a kind of inside joke…

In Spinelli's turning away, she quickly spotted the couch in front of them, with a rather unconscious man in about his mid-forties sleeping on it, with an empty beer bottle lightly clutched in his hand, and many more on the floor below. The light blue glow of the flickering television before him allowed Spinelli to distinguish the man's severely unshaven chin, his rather shabby clothing, and his large, protruding beer gut.

"That's my Uncle Jackson." Said Tyson, noticing Spinelli's stare. "He's cool. We'd better not disturb him though- he gets kinda' crabby if you wake him after he's been drinkin'. Let's go to my room…"

"Uhh…okay." Spinelli obeyed, letting Tyson lead her to a door just down the hallway from the lounge room. As they walked down the hall, they passed another door, which Spinelli noticed had a poster on it which read:_ 'Welcome to the Gates of the Underworld. Beware of the Cerberus.'_ Below it was a well-drawn picture of some sort of dog, which she couldn't quite see properly because she was being pulled down the hall to the next door.

Tyson opened the door and held his hand out for Spinelli. "Ladies first." He said graciously.

Spinelli stopped for a moment, contemplating on whether or not to comment to Tyson about his reference to her as a 'lady', but then just let it slide, walking into the dimly lit room.

Spinelli looked over her surroundings: posters of famous street fighters, sordid-looking rappers, and scantily clad women slung over shiny motorbikes were scattered over the walls and closet doors. A considerably expensive-looking stereo system sat on a poorly built shelf on the left, looking quite shiny and out-of-place compared to the rest of the room. Pieces of shabby, dirty clothing laid in miscellaneous places throughout the room, as though the owner never bothered to move the clothes anywhere once he took them off. A single unmade bed with a threadbare brown quilt and a worn-down pillow resided on the far side of the room, if you could call it at all 'far', considering the small size of the room. A dim light shone down from the faint ceiling light above.

Spinelli felt slightly intimidated and a little nervous being in the room- this was a real teenager's room, and she was just a kid. Teenager stuff like this was said to be so cool, and being in a surrounding like this made her feel as though anyone could easily see through her soul to the immature little kiddy she knew she still was.

Tyson walked over and sat down on the bed, patting the mattress next to him as he offered, "Come take a seat."

Spinelli grinned nervously and did as she was asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Tyson.

"So…" Spinelli started awkwardly, unsure of what Tyson had brought her here for in the first place.

Tyson chuckled. "Don't be so nervous! You're with _me_ here, thrasher- there's nothin' to be nervous about…"

Spinelli smiled at Tyson's reassurance and started to relax.

Tyson continued, "That's it, unwind yourself! Look, I brought you here to let you forget about your 'friends', so let's just do some talking. So, uhh…alright- how do you like the Seventh Heaven Society so far?"

Spinelli's face lit up. "Oh, it's great! I mean, I was a bit reluctant at first, but now I love goin' there!"

"Yeah, you're a rockin' fighter…I suppose you like it too 'coz your brother owns the place, huh?"

Spinelli nodded. "Yeah, I guess that is a big plus! It's kinda' fun to be like a mini-celebrity around the place-"

Spinelli paused in her sentence, looking down at her hand, where Tyson's hand currently had clutched onto it. Spinelli looked up at Tyson's sassy grin in confusion for a second, before grinning devilishly herself and starting to get the drift- or at least what she _thought_ was the drift.

"Oh, I get it…" she said, before slowly leaning in towards Tyson. Tyson slowly leaned towards Spinelli. And then…

"GOTCHA'!!!" Spinelli yelled triumphantly as she pulled Tyson's hand forward to grab him by the back of his shirt and shove him facedown onto the bed, sticking her knee into the small of his back to stop him from getting back up.

"What the heck are you doin'???" yelped Tyson into the bed as he wriggled against Spinelli's firm hold.

"Oh come on," replied Spinelli teasingly, "I know a double suplex when I see one! You thought I wouldn't notice the first move of grabbing the opponent by the hand, but I was too fast for ya'!!!"

"Double suplex…?" Tyson murmured in puzzlement, before realising Spinelli's naïve mistake and grinning.

"Yeah- you know you should really be more subtle with your attacks, I saw that one coming from a mile away!" Spinelli explained as she released Tyson from the hold and he sat back up slowly, with a little ache still in his back. "Lucky Vitto taught me the counter-attack for that one!"

Tyson laughed tersely, rubbing his back gingerly. "Man, that one kind of hurt!"

Spinelli looked up at Tyson quizzically. "Well, isn't that the point?"

Tyson let a sly grin form over his face at her naïveté. "Yeah, I guess so. Just don't be so rough next time." He then leant back put his arms under his head and asked casually, "So…speakin' of your brother, he's a pretty cool guy, huh? Do you guys spend much time together?"

"Well, not much, no." answered Spinelli slowly, a little perplexed at the oddity of Tyson's question. "He moved out of our house sometime last year. I've only really started hangin' with him again since you invited me to the Society."

"Oh? So you guys aren't really _that_ close then?"

"Well, we are _close_- I mean, I don't see him as much as I used to anymore, but we've still got that 'sibling bond' kind of thing. We look out for each other…"

"Sibling bond, eh? Never thought too much of that myself. My own brother's a loser…" Tyson sneered, before getting back to the subject. "I'm just tryin' to get an idea of your relationship here- so say if…oh for example, Vitto got sick of managing the Seventh Heaven Society, do you reckon he'd give it to you, instead of, you know, one of his friends…?"

Spinelli paused in thought. "You know, I'm not really sure. I'm a bit young to be in charge of something like that…but either way, I don't think Vitto's gonna' be giving up ownership of that place too soon. He seems pretty fond of the place; I guess it's kind of special to him 'coz it's like a hand-me-down from Joey. Uhh, Joey's our older brother. He's…he's in jail." Spinelli clarified kind of sadly.

"Uh huh…" Replied Tyson uninterestedly, before continuing. "But I reckon that's kind of lame, keeping the club because of some corny memories."

"Really…?" asked Spinelli, surprised and a little discomfited, since she had thought Vitto's sentiments were kind of cool. "Why…?"

Tyson snorted, "Well come on- Vitto could be making some major bucks off this club, but he refuses to charge kids for comin' even though he can't afford the equipment, all because of some sentimental crap! I reckon he'd be a lot better off handin' the place over to someone who can handle the business…"

"Vitto can handle the business!" Spinelli defended angrily. Tyson flinched in shock for a moment, looking around as if thinking of something to say to cover up what he had just said. But instead he just spilled a playful grin over his face and replied reassuringly:

"Sure he can. Sure."

Silence then fell through the room. Spinelli was still a little confused over Tyson's random questions about her and her brother. Tyson had been acting quite peculiar in general tonight, ever since they had gotten into his room. He seemed to keep switching between attitudes of puckish playfulness and focused interrogation. Spinelli couldn't seem to figure out what he was up to…

Then, somewhere during the silent course of Spinelli's ponderings, she felt a strange, slightly wet thing softly touch her left cheek. She jumped in shock and pulled away, looking for the thing that had touched her cheek. However, the only thing that she could see to the left of her was a wildly grinning Tyson, a mischievous glint glaring in his eyes.

It took a few contemplative seconds, but when Spinelli finally came to the realisation of what had just happened, she suddenly felt her face begin to burn, certain that it was glowing ten different shades of red. Her mind was racing, along with her pulse, and she suddenly became very self-conscious.

When her mind worked well enough for her to be able to form full words, she stuttered quietly, "T-Tyson…? W-Why did you…?"

"I really like you, Ashley…" Tyson replied quickly to the unfinished question, "You're different from other girls. You're going places." Tyson moved forwards slowly, as he whispered softly, "And you're different from those stupid friends of yours too- you understand the big picture…"

Tyson began to lean towards Spinelli again, eyes closed and lips out. Spinelli just watched helplessly as he moved closer and closer, unable to move herself.

Suddenly, Spinelli had a major flash of déjà vu. The lips that moved ever closer to her now- this had happened sometime before. Somewhere in a schoolyard, just near a dumpster, another boy's pouted lips had moved slowly towards hers. This boy, like the one with her now, also had freckles sprinkled lightly over his cheeks. But the boy from her memory was very different to the one in front of her now. The boy from her memory had soft, chestnut hair- not like the tousled dirty blonde hair she saw before her. The boy from her memory had a soft, boyish face- not like the hardened, cynical face before her. The boy from her memory had clear, sparkling blue eyes which looked like a brilliant spring sky- not like the icy bitter blue eyes which were closed before her. The boy from her memory understood the 'big picture' much better than the boy before her…

But the thing Spinelli recalled most about that memory was one simple fact of society- the whole reason that that boy had been forced into leaning towards her in the first place.

Kids _don't_ like kissing.

Suddenly Spinelli snapped out of her reverie, looking down at the boy bending towards her with slight disgust. She leapt off the bed, leaving Tyson to lean forward into thin air and hence collapse front-wards onto the bed. He quickly got up and stared at Spinelli in shock.

"What's the deal???" he asked as he raised an eyebrow in true teenager fashion, "Playing hard to get…?"

Spinelli looked at Tyson nervously. "Uhh, no…I just think…well, I just think kissing is kind of, well…_gross_…"

Tyson stared at Spinelli in disbelief for a second, before chuckling. "Yeah, good one! And _I_ think fighting is kind of dangerous- ah ha ha!!!" He cracked up laughing, but Spinelli just looked at him seriously.

"No, I'm serious! I guess I'm…I guess I'm just not old enough for that kind of stuff yet. Sorry…?"

Tyson slowly stopped laughing. "Are you serious? Come on, you're not too young!" He jumped off the bed and advanced on her. "You'll get to like it once you try it…"

Spinelli backed away from the blonde-haired boy timidly, "No, really- I don't want to…I mean, why do _you_ want to kiss _me_ anyway??? You're practically a teenager- I'm not even eleven yet! I mean, isn't that a little…weird???"

Tyson kept moving forward slowly, but put a 'hurt puppy' look on his face as he said, "What's the matter Ashley??? Don't you _like_ me…?"

"I…" Spinelli started, unsure of exactly what she was trying to say, "I don't--"

At that moment Spinelli's back hit the wall, and she pressed herself against it, looking nervously up at the older boy.

"Come on, thrasher." Tyson spoke soothingly as he closed the gap between himself and the girl before him, "I won't bite…"

Tyson moved his lips slowly in towards Spinelli's lips. Spinelli tried to move her head away, but she was trapped- backed against the wall with no route of escape.

Tyson's face was only a breath away- she could smell the stale stench of pizza and what smelt like cheap alcohol on his breath. Spinelli grimaced, waiting for the impact, and looked away from his face, and down at the floor, near his legs instead.

And there in front of her, like a heavenly gift from God, was her escape route.

She lifted up her right leg, aimed, and kicked up her knee as hard as she could, and then:

TWACK!!!

Tyson's face immediately stopped moving forward and his eyes shot open, his face scrunched up in a pained expression, and he doubled over quickly, hands protecting his crotch area from the unexpected blow. Spinelli could hear him trying to catch his breath again as he exhaled heavily from the pain of the low blow.

Spinelli suddenly got her senses back and realised why she had done that in the first place. She quickly turned around and headed towards the door, before stopping when she heard a voice mutter behind her:

"No- don't go you idiot!!! You'll ruin _everything_…"

Spinelli stopped in her tracks, turned around, and looked down at Tyson warily.

"What did you just say…?" She asked in a low, questioning voice. Tyson stood up as best he could and looked at her, his breath still uneasy, but with a guarded look in his eyes.

"Umm…nothing." He denied in a soft voice. Spinelli raised an eyebrow and stepped towards him.

"You said something to me. What was it…?" She asked again.

Tyson just stood there panting and trying not to let the pain show on his face as he stared at Spinelli for a while. As Spinelli returned the stare, she noticed the way Tyson's ice blue eyes seemed to be changing. His reserved, cheeky glance metamorphosised into an embittered one, filled with all the cynicism and resentment of a world-weary adult…

Finally he just snorted and shook his head scathingly, muttering in a low voice, "Man, I thought this was gonna' be worth it. Boy, was I ever wrong…"

Spinelli just watched in uncertainty and slight nervousness, as Tyson suddenly began laughing. It was a strange laughter- one filled with mocking contempt and spiteful ridicule. Tyson was bending over double from laughing so much.

But suddenly his laughter died down, and he stood back up, scowling at Spinelli like she was the scum of all mankind.

"Man, I am _so_ sick of you- you're _such_ a KID!!!" Tyson spat scornfully, sneering down at the young raven-haired girl.

"W-What…?" Spinelli stuttered, completely taken aback by what the boy before her had just said.

Tyson snickered, "You heard me! God, I've been tryin' and tryin' to stick to the plan, but I just don't _care_ anymore!!!"

"W-What plan??? What's going on…?" Spinelli asked softly, in a state of shock and anxiety from the unexpected outburst she was seeing.

Tyson scowled derisively, and spoke in a mocking, hateful voice. "You really wanna' know? Alright then Ashley Spinelli, here it is, plain as day, so even your clueless little mind can understand it…"

Tyson grinned menacingly, speaking slowly and sardonically so she wouldn't miss a word of what he has about to say:

"I've been _using_ you to help myself try and take over the Seventh Heaven Society!!!"

Spinelli stuttered, wide-eyed, "What…?"

"Are you DEAF?!?" yelled Tyson, "I'm USING you to get to your brother and kick him out of ownership- because I WANT THE SEVENTH HEAVEN SOCIETY!!!!! Then I could start charging kids, I could get some money, and get myself out of _this_ hellhole!!!"

Spinelli just stood there stammering, "B-But…But _why_???"

"Why…?" Tyson grimaced in reminiscence. "I've been part of that Society since I was _ten_ _years old_!!! I've been there from the start, when 'The Thrasher'- your big bro Joey- first started invitin' kids to fight with him and his friends! I was there when he got pulled into the slammer! I was there when that place almost fell apart- if it wasn't for ME it _would've_ fallen apart! I was one of the few ONLY fighters who stuck by the Society when Joey was gone! _I kept that place alive_…"

Tyson continued scathingly, "But then the 'good old Spinelli clan' returned- little brother Vitto Spinelli came to the rescue and claimed ownership of the place, and supposedly 'put the Society back on its feet'. And I was still there, helping him rebuild the Seventh Heaven Society practically from scratch! Then eventually lots of kids started comin' again- the Society was back in business. But something wasn't right- whenever I tried to say hey to Vitto, or make any sort of suggestions to him about the Society, he'd shun me off- too busy or uninterested to listen to me! I'd done SO much for that club, and what recognition did I get??? NONE!!! Not even a thankyou from Vitto for helping rebuild the place, or keeping it alive when practically no one else was there!"

"Then Vitto became like some sort of damned celebrity around that place! He was the big shot owner of the juvenile fighters' society, and I was just some dumb_ kid_!!! No one cared about Tyson Tyzack, the little boy who'd been there through the thick of it all- they only cared about the person who _owned _the place! So- that's what I planned to _become_…"

"I thought, 'Vitto's not just gonna' hand the place over- if I'm gonna' get this place, I'll need to get it myself.' I thought, 'If only there was some way I could get on Vitto's good side, then I could gain his respect enough for him to trust me.' And then, when he least suspected it…BAM!!! I'd be able to kick him out of his throne, and I'd be the new owner of the Seventh Heaven Society!!! I mean, where do you think he got all his equipment from? And those surveillance cameras??? God, do you know how much stuff I had to steal to get that guy to _like me_?!" Tyson inhaled deeply in bitterness before continuing.

"But it wasn't enough. I needed something that would get me right in good with him. And then…" he smirked bitterly at Spinelli, "And then I saw you. Sure, at first I had no idea you would be of any use to me- you were just a pretty face with fists- just some girl who looked as though she was gonna' get a hot body when she was older. So I invited you to the Seventh Heaven Society. Sure, you were a crappy fighter at first, but so are most good-looking girls, so I stuck by you. But then…oh, then I found out who you were. At first I was furious- I mean, as soon as you showed up it was like the story was happening all over again! Vitto would hand the Society over to his little sister before I'd even have a chance to get it for myself- Tyson Tyzack would be left out of the picture yet AGAIN!!!"

"But I thought about it for a while, and it came to me- you weren't a drawback, you were just a new part of the plan. And suddenly, the answer was right there in front of me! If the owner's little sister _likes_ me, then the _owner_ likes me. I get a double plus from getting a girl, _and_ gaining the respect of the owner. Then I just earn his trust enough for him to trust me with the club, and in no time I overthrow the owner, the club is mine and I can do whatever I want with it, including charging kids big money to come!"

"And the best part of the plan," he continued with a wicked grin, "Was that the legendary Vitto Spinelli would have no idea until it was too late!!! I'd persuade him into believing that the best thing for the Society would be to hand it over to someone just like _me_- which would be easy dealings once I became friends with him, because, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a _master_ at emotional manipulation…"

Tyson's grin went sour as he went on, "But then you…you had to go and be so- so- so damned irritating! God, can't you agree to do anything without complaining or getting all immature and pouty??? Jeez, and you're so clueless! I mean, I've met five-year-olds who are more in-tune with other people's emotions than you!!! Maybe if you got over yourself for a few seconds, you'd be smart enough to realise some of the things going on around you! Oh, and the worst part about you? you're such a little KID!!! Well I'll tell you something Ashley Spinelli- little kids don't _make_ it in the real world!!! They get looked down on by teenagers who think they don't know crap about anything- they get stepped on by adults who could care less about 'some dumb kid'- they get forgotten by the people they helped to keep a Society alive…"

Tyson snapped out of his acrimony and grinned at Spinelli sourly. "But it doesn't matter now anyway- Vitto trusts me now. I'm one of his friends now. And soon enough I'll get rid of your brother and his pathetic little morals, and the Seventh Heaven Society will be in my complete control…"

Tyson let out a low, lengthy snicker and a long sigh, marking the conclusion of his long rant.

Spinelli just stood there unmoving, mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking, unable to believe any of what she had just heard.

It was just too hard to take in all of this sudden shock information at once- Spinelli just couldn't comprehend how Tyson could have sunk so low. Trying to supplant her brother, trying to steal the Society, using _her_ to get it…

Spinelli slowly began to form this all together in her mind. Tyson Tyzack, the young, dirty blonde-haired, freckle-faced, bandanna-wearing teenager before her was no longer the good friend she had believed him to be. He was no longer her source of a comforting arm around the shoulders. He was no longer the cool, rebellious, mysterious guy she once thought he was…

Tyson Tyzack to her was now just an evil, conniving, snickering snake- no, worse than a snake- a _monster_. The type of monster who waits until it's dark, when you're most vulnerable, to come out and make it's attack…

Spinelli suddenly snapped out of her thoughts in a fit of fury. "You'll NEVER get away with this!!! Vitto's not that oblivious- once I tell him what's going on, he'll kick you out of the Society faster than you can imagine!!!"

Tyson scoffed, "Pfft- you think he'll take you seriously??? Come off it- you're just a little girl to him! One of Vitto's best friends found out what I was up to a little while ago- and when he tried to tell him, Vitto got so mad at the guy for even considerin' that I'd do something like that, that Vitto's hardly spoken to him since! If Vitto didn't believe one of his _best friends_, then what kind of chance do _you_ have???"

Spinelli just glared at Tyson wrathfully and growled, "I told you before. _We look out for each other_…"

Tyson laughed malevolently. "Whatever you reckon!" He then ran over between Spinelli and the door, looking down at her menacingly.

"But just to be on the safe side- I'd better teach you a lesson about snitching before you leave…"

Tyson rolled up his shirtsleeves, stepped forward and forcefully grasped Spinelli's arms, gripping her biceps tightly until she could feel her skin go white. Spinelli looked up at Tyson in fear, knowing that the sinful look in his eyes meant nothing but trouble for her…

She found struggling against his grasp quite useless, and her heart rate increased as she prepared for the worst, convinced that all hope was lost…

"WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?!?"

An angry, but familiar male voice suddenly bellowed from the doorway. Spinelli and Tyson froze, looking with shock over to the male standing intently at the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

Spinelli just stared at the person in surprise, speaking the only thing she could think at that messed-up moment in time:

"What are YOU doing here…?"

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**A/N: **Next chapter- we find out who's at the door.....but for now, please tell me if this extra-long turning-point chapter was okay, because I'm really not sure anymore...please review if you can!


	20. I'm Not Scared Of Monsters

**A/N: **Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since I updated- I've been studying and so forth with the excuses...anyway- this chapter kind of reveals one of the secrets of the fic which I've been dropping hints at through the whole story. I'm not quite sure whether any of you have figured it out yet...maybe you have and it was too obvious to even say anything...

Okay, I've got major exams coming up in a few weeks, so updates might be a little slow for the next four or so weeks (although this probably won't be much change from usual…). But for now, here's a million thankyous to my reviewers- The Next Political Dynasty, Yankee Doodle Blonde, Akiko Toshika, thesolitary-dragon, DarkAngelGuardianLight and Peaches The First. I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little short, I had a hard time writing anything of length after the last chapter. Well, I hope you guys enjoy anyway!

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty: I'm Not Scared Of Monsters…**

"Yes, what are_ you_ doing here…?" Tyson asked spitefully to the male at the door.

"Looking for _you_." The boy growled, glaring at Tyson in disgust. "I _knew_ you were up to something. I _knew_ it…"

Tyson rolled his eyes disdainfully. "Of course you _knew _it! You've known it for _ages_!!!"

Spinelli jumped into the riveting conversation, still with disbelief and bafflement painted across her face, and asked as best she could without stumbling over her words. "Uhh…excuse me? I still don't understand what _you're_ doing _here_!!!" Not that she was complaining about someone interrupting whatever Tyson was about to do to her- she was just still in a state of shock and needed some sort of questions answered.

The guy at the door didn't take his glare off Tyson, but answered: "I _live _here."

Spinelli looked confusedly to Tyson. "I thought this was _your_ house!"

Tyson didn't take his filthy glower off the boy at the door, but answered obnoxiously, "It _is_…"

Spinelli looked between the guy at the door and the guy in front of her, trying to put two and two together, but failing miserably.

"I…don't get it…"

Tyson glared at Spinelli and snarled in frustration, "You idiot!!! Don't you understand anything?!? He's…he's…"

"He's my _brother_…" finished the boy at the door.

Spinelli stood there for a second, processing what he had just said. And then, _finally_, she figured out that two and two together, is four.

"WHAT?!?!?" She yelped, looking between the two boys, but especially the one at the door. He was still looking fiercely at Tyson, the freckles on his face grouping up from his frown, the fiery red hair on his head tousled and dishevelled from running all the way here, and the skin on his sixteen-year-old fists turning white from clenching…

"So wait-" repeated Spinelli, clarifying and pointing at the boy at the door, "You…you're…you're…"

The boy finished her sentence slowly. "I am Jason Tyzack."

Spinelli couldn't believe this- Jason, the bouncer with the welcoming smile, the red-haired guy her and the guys had made such good friends with at the Society, was Tyson Tyzack, the monster's _brother_…?

"I…I…I-- whoa…" Spinelli uttered, putting her hand to her dizzy head. WAY too much information had been let loose tonight, and it was all beginning to swim around her mind- especially the bad stuff. All these horrible secrets were beginning to make her nauseous. She could feel the colour draining from her face, and clutched onto the bed head to stop herself from collapsing to the ground.

"Go home Spinelli." Jason commanded perceptively but sternly with a pointed finger towards the door, not taking his intently revolted glare off his little brother.

Spinelli feebly replied, "But-"

"GO." Jason repeated in a deep, uncompromising voice. Spinelli suddenly felt very helpless to protest, and walked out of the room, jogging out of the apartment, not bothering to shut the door on her way out.

And then she ran. Despite the sickness she felt, she ran home down the cold, dark and lonely streets, just as she had run away from her home just a few hours ago. Scruffy was asleep by the time she arrived, and she snuck back into the house, into her room, and leapt into bed, street clothes and all. Then the full realisation of everything that had happened that night suddenly kicked in.

Spinelli brought the covers up over her face, as she had done so many times before in her youth in an attempt to hide from the monsters that lurked in the dark…

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Spinelli woke up the next morning, letting herself drown in a blissful, sleepy daze, relishing herself in the prospect of no school, before the full events of everything that had happened last night came flooding back into her memory. She put her hands over her face and groaned, wishing that the whole world would just collapse in over her bedroom right there and then. Fortunately for the rest of the world, but unfortunately for her, it didn't happen.

Spinelli turned her head to the right and rubbed her sleepy eyes to look at the numbers on her digital clock. It read 10:30 AM.

"Stupid lousy stinkin'…" Spinelli muttered in annoyance. She knew going out late last night would bode some sort of horrible consequences- and there they were. She'd missed every one of her Saturday morning cartoons.

She got up slowly, trying to keep her mind away from the strange and shocking incidences of last night. She got dressed and sulkily trod downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast, when she suddenly noticed Scruffy, sitting outside the kitchen door, pawing on the screen. She smiled slightly and walked over to the door, opening it and bending down to give the family dog a 'good morning' pat. But just as she reached her hand to Scruffy's head, he suddenly yelped and flinched back, backing away from Spinelli with a small whimper.

"What's wrong with him?" asked a voice behind Spinelli as she turned around to see her dad setting her a bowl of cereal, which appeared to be Frosties.

"Umm…I don't know…" replied Spinelli guiltily, remembering with shame how she had mercilessly booted Scruffy in the nose last night.

"Hmm, he's been acting a little strange lately. Started barking late last night for no reason!" Replied Bob as Spinelli sat down in front of the bowl of cereal sheepishly. "Well anyway, enough about the dog- you got up late today pookie, you're usually up at six-thirty for Commander Blade's Cartoon Cavalcade!"

"Uhh yeah…I guess I was just tired…" answered Spinelli in a half-truth.

"Hmm, oh well, I guess a little weekend sleep-in isn't bad- just so long as you don't waste the day lying around the house. It's a beautiful day out there- why don't you go play with your little friends???"

_'Friends! What friends?'_ Spinelli asked herself mentally. She nevertheless tried to think of something to do that day, something to take her mind off the subject that kept looming in her thoughts, when she found herself wondering why this morning seemed so different from the ones so far this week, besides the fact that it was Saturday, and suddenly she had it.

_'Training! That's it- I could go to the school grounds today and do some training- that's be sure to keep my mind off last night!" _Spinelli thought as she grinned spitefully to herself, _'And the best part is, I can go at my own pace, do things my way- since Vince and T.J. won't be there pushing me around! Sure, I don't need them to train! In fact, I'll bet I'll do a much better job _without_ them!!!'  
_

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Spinelli looked morosely onto the Third Street playground, her fingers clutching onto a chain-linked fence which, unfortunately for her, closed off the school grounds from the street.

Spinelli mentally kicked herself. "Why didn't I think the school grounds would be _closed_ on Saturday! Stupid lousy stinkin'…"

She slunk down against the fence and sat on the pavement with her cheeks in her hands. It was times like this when Spinelli used to be able to go to her friends for help or advice…but who was she supposed to go to now? The two friends whom she had ridiculed and shunned and consequently driven away? The three friends whom she had lied to and kept in the dark about all of this? The one friend she thought she had left but who really turned out to be a manipulative backstabbing parasite…?

Spinelli stood up from the pavement defiantly, refusing to let herself be driven down by these thoughts of friendlessness, refusing to let herself believe that a part of this was somehow her fault…

Spinelli shook all the remorseful deliberations out of her head, and forced herself to focus on the biggest issue at hand. Tyson Tyzack had divulged to her a huge secret- a secret which could see Vitto losing the only hand-me-down he had ever received from their jailbird brother- a secret which _must _be shared with the only person she could think of left at the moment who still cared about her.

Forgetting all thoughts about her friend troubles, Spinelli left for home, to await for the nighttime when she would once again sneak out to the Seventh Heaven Society- this time not to fight, but to have a very important talk with her brother…

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**A/N:** A Winger Dinger goes to thesolitary-dragon for guessing who was at the door. Nice one! Okay now, everyone can leave a nice review if they want…come on, it was my birthday two days ago- consider this your present to me! It will be much appreciated! 


	21. Blood Is Thicker Than What Now?

**A/N:** Ah, sweetness of life, exams are over (for a few days, at least...), which means more fan fiction writing! Umm, hopefully...Anyway, a huge thanks to TheNextPoliticalDynasty, thesolitary-dragon, Yankee Doodle Blonde, Chellyburger, DarkAngelGuardianLight and Peaches the First for getting me to the big 100 review count! WE MADE IT GUYS!!! I'd hug you all, except- you know, I might get radiation from hugging the computer screen.....yeah.....umm......on with the fiction!

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-one: Blood Is Thicker Than What Now?**

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"VITTO!!!" Spinelli yelled as she wrenched open the door of her brother's office that night and came barging inside.

Vitto jumped up from the chair behind his desk and looked at his sister's distraught face worriedly. "Whoa Ash, what's the matter???"

"I've got something REALLY important and serious to tell you." said Spinelli with composed distress, "Something happened last night, and- and- and-"

Vitto grabbed his sister's shoulders to calm her down. "Whoa, slow down Ash- come sit down and explain to me what the problem is." Vitto said calmly as he led Spinelli over to a chair on the outside of the desk. He then walked back to his own chair on the opposite side of the desk and sat down. He then looked at her and asked evenly, "Okay now, what seems to be the problem?"

Spinelli took a calming breath and spoke slowly, preparing herself for the long explanation that followed. "Okay- here's the story. You know that guy Tyson? Well…"

Spinelli went through the whole story, from her and T.J. & Vince having a fight, to Tyson's invite to his house, to his attempts to get 'closer' to her, to the spilling of his evil plans about him and the Seventh Heaven Society. All the while Spinelli kept her eyes on Vitto, watching for his reactions. A couple of times when she mentioned Tyson trying to kiss her she saw Vitto's hands clench tighter around the arms of his chair, but besides those few exceptions, his expression seemed to stay basically the same- completely blank…

When Spinelli finally finished, she looked to her brother and asked, "Well…?"

Vitto sighed and stared thoughtfully at the photo frame on his desk. "Are you absolutely sure that that's exactly what he said and did?"

"I'm positive…" Claimed Spinelli, wondering why her brother would doubt her. She suddenly remembered something that Tyson had said to her last night: '_If Vitto didn't believe one of his best friends, then what kind of chance do you have???'_

Spinelli looked to Vitto with well-hidden desperation, and asked him softly, "You believe me…don't you???"

Vitto continued to stare at the photo frame for a while, seeming to be deep in deliberation about something. When he had finished, he took a deep breath, looking over to his little sister and opening his mouth to answer her question.

Just as he went to answer though, the door behind Spinelli swung open. Vitto stopped and looked in the direction of the door, his mouth still hanging open from where it had been going to answer Spinelli's question, seemingly frozen in that position for the moment as he stared at the person in the door awkwardly.

Spinelli quickly noticed Vitto's stare and turned around to see for herself who was at the door. Then she immediately wished she hadn't…

Of course, the person at the door was too dim-witted and self-absorbed to notice that either person was looking at him strangely as though they might have just been talking about him, or even that there was a second person in the room. He walked into the room, speaking casually to Vitto as he went:

"Hey Thrasher, how's it hangin'? Listen, I was thinkin' and-"

He froze as he spotted Spinelli sitting in the chair in front of where he stood, glaring at him with filthy imaginary daggers.

"Sorry- I didn't know you had company…" He said snappishly, glaring back at Spinelli with a serious but unintentionally humorous girlish death stare.

Spinelli looked to Vitto expectantly, expecting him to promptly beat the snot out of the guy standing next to her. However, Vitto just cleared his throat authoritatively and replied in a calm voice, "That's alright, Tyson. What did you want?"

Spinelli looked at Vitto with confusion for a second, before realising that he was probably letting whatever anger he had get bottled up so he could release it like a huge explosion at the best possible opportunity. Spinelli sat back and decided to watch and wait for the detonation.

"Well, I was wonderin' if I could ask you somethin' kind of important." Requested Tyson with as much fake sweetness as an industrial sized tub of double-double chocolate chipped chocolate chip ice cream. Spinelli had to force her body not to leap up and rip the teenager into tiny, teenage shreds.

Vitto's expression remained completely impassive as he asked casually, "Sure, what is it?"

Tyson secretly gave Spinelli a belittling, 'watch _this_' sneer, before looking up to Vitto with a sickeningly friendly smile.

"Well, I was thinkin' about the tourney next week…and I know how much it means to you to fight well, bein' the owner and all…and seein' as how you need a partner for the tourney, and _I_ need a partner for the tourney…I was thinkin' that maybe, you know, since I'm a pretty okay fighter, and since I'm a bud of yours and all, if you wanted…you could be my tag-team partner…???"

Spinelli looked to Vitto with real expectation. If he was going to release all the anger and hate she was sure that he had, now would be the perfect opportunity. _'You want to be my tag-team partner?! How about my fists play tag-team with your FACE?!?'_ Yes, that's exactly something Vitto would say. If he was ever going to act, it was going to be now…

Vitto sat in his chair for a moment, looking at Tyson blankly. Then all of a sudden he stood up, and began pacing slowly over to Tyson.

_'Oh boy,'_ thought Spinelli excitedly and somewhat sadistically, _'This is gonna' be good…'_

Vitto reached where Tyson was standing, and stopped in front of the blonde teen, staring down at him with a poker-faced expression. To anyone who wasn't related to him, Vitto's expression would have been completely unreadable- but Spinelli knew better.

As she looked into her brother's face at that moment, she saw past the deadpan expression to one of moral dilemma. Vitto seemed to be battling in his mind about something, Spinelli knew that much- it was what he was battling about that had her momentarily perplexed. She wondered what her brother could have been so torn between at that moment, but something else kept running back and forth through the back of her mind. A sentence- a familiar sentence, spoken less than twenty-four hours ago by a boy she thought she knew:

'_If Vitto didn't believe one of his best friends, then what kind of chance do you have…?'_

Spinelli shook her head, attempting to rid herself of the very thought. That couldn't be what Vitto was thinking about…could it? Vitto would never doubt her, would he…? Spinelli suddenly remembered another incident- there had been another one who she thought would never doubt her- a boy she once knew- a boy with a kind face and clear, sky blue eyes- a boy who had once been one of her best friends- a boy who usually always defended _her_…

Spinelli again shook the thoughts from her head. This time wasn't like that- this time it was someone else who was in the wrong, not her- she _deserved_ to be defended this time. There was no way that Vitto would pick Tyson over her, she thought. There was no way Vitto would pick a monster over his sister, she thought. There was no way Vitto would pick evil over good, she thought…

Vitto looked down on Tyson, and for a moment, Spinelli could've sworn she saw Vitto's fists clench up, his elbow swing back, and his hands begin to pummel the little monster. Spinelli could have sworn that Vitto was about to fight off the evil monster, like a good big brother should for his little sister…

But, the moment soon passed, and it didn't happen. Instead, Vitto just impassively told the monster to its face:

"Sure. I'll be your partner…"

And with those five words, Spinelli felt her heart drop to her knees, and her hopes fall to hell…

Tyson grinned. "Thanks, man! I owe you one! Well, I gotta' get back to refereeing- we'll talk again soon about training and stuff, 'kay?" he said, before turning around and leaving the room, completely disregarding Spinelli's presence.

After he left the room, Vitto replied somewhat stiffly, "Okay…"

Spinelli just stared at Vitto, shock and disorientation covering her face.

"Why did you do that…?" she asked slowly, wondering if perhaps there was some miraculous explanation as to why he had just said yes to a boy she had just clearly warned him about.

"I…" Vitto replied laboriously, looking at Spinelli with the same lack of emotion he had with Tyson. "I just did."

Spinelli asked again, "But _why_???"

Vitto looked away from her for a moment, before looking back to Spinelli and turning on her. "I just did, okay?!? What's it to you???"

"I…" Spinelli stuttered, not only furious with her brother but now beginning to become quite scared of him as well, "…Nothing."

She turned around quickly and strode out the door, wanting to escape the room quickly before the tears that threatened to form began to fall…

* * *

**A/N: **Next chapter, 'To Hell And Back' will be up soon.....But while you wait for the next installment, there's a little blueish-purpley button that says 'Go' down in the bottom-left hand corner of your screen. It wants you to scratch its back by clicking on it. Then it wants you to review this story. Come one, you don't want to disappoint the little button... 


	22. To Hell And Back

**A/N: **Hey guys, just a quick little author's note this time because I'm rather sleepy and really can't think of much to say. Thanks massively to The Next Political Dynasty, thesolitary-dragon, dixie darlin and Akiko Toshika for reviewing- you all, as always, rock. Well, enjoy the update. I must go be unconscious for a while, because my brain seems to be a bit around messed…

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
****By goofy monkey child **

**Chapter twenty-two: To Hell And Back**

Spinelli ran out to the cold corridors and stumbled down the long path, stopping to plonk herself down only when she was halfway between the door to the entrance of the Society, and the door to the exit of the building. Sitting down with her knees brought to her chin, she bit her bottom lip furiously, demanding it not to quiver. She would not cry just because things were getting down. She would not cry just because she had no friends or family left who could help her through. She would not cry. She was Ashley Vermachello Spinelli, and she would _not_ cry.

And then she cried.

It wasn't a loud, melodramatic sob, or even a pitiful whimpering. In fact, if it weren't for the two tattletale tears that ran slowly down her childlike cheeks, there would be no evidence that she was even crying at all.

Spinelli hated herself for being so weakened over such a relatively minor crisis, but the realisation had just gotten to her. Vitto was her last hope- Vitto was supposed to take _her_ side, and make everything better for _her_. She had finally seemed to realise that no one _wanted_ to be on _her_ side…

Just when she was immersing herself in the deep depths of her self pity, a husky voice called from above her:

"Hey kiddo, what's wrong?"

Spinelli looked up to see Jason- Jason _Tyzack_ as she now knew him- looking down at her with concern. Spinelli turned her face away, hiding her tears from any human exposure.

"Nothin'." She lied.

"Don't lie to me." he replied sympathetically. "Give me some credit- I know you better than that."

Spinelli discreetly wiped her jacket sleeve over her eyes, still facing away from Jason.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" she replied, as if there were nothing wrong at all.

"Well for one," he replied, "you're sitting out here. No one in their right mind would sit out here unless they were really depressed." Jason motioned to the dark, dank and foreboding environment that surrounded them.

"Then what are you doing out here?" Spinelli asked with a tinge of bitterness creeping into her tone.

"I came out to check on the new bouncer- it's his first shift and I thought I'd check if he's doing alright. Don't change the subject." He replied, before continuing on the subject he was on before. "Secondly," he reached down to Spinelli and put a hand gently around her chin, turning her head around to face him. "Spinelli's don't cry. Not unless there's something really bothering them. So, what is it that's bothering you?"

Spinelli looked timidly up at the older boy, and sighed. "I didn't think you'd wanna' talk to me at all. No one else does…"

Jason sat down next to her on the ground. "Now why would you think I wouldn't want to talk to you? Is this because of last night…?"

Spinelli nodded slowly. Jason sighed and looked down at the filthy ground. "Spinelli, I'm so sorry about Tyson. If I could do something to change him, I would. Believe me, I've tried- time and time again. I mean, people tell you that no one's ever a lost cause- but Tyson, well…I just don't know. He's always been like this. I know he's my little brother, but…I can't believe we're related. You have to understand that I'm not like him- at least I hope I'm not… I don't expect you to trust me, but if you're willing to listen, I can say to you honestly now that I'm not going to hurt you. You _can_ trust me- if you want."

Spinelli looked up at Jason, marvelling at his selflessness. She had thought Jason would want to rub last night's incidences in her face, after all his warnings to her about his brother. She thought he'd at least be angry with her for not trusting him enough to listen to his words of warning. But here he was, thinking that _she_ was mad at _him_ for being related to Tyson- apologising for his brother's actions when she should have been the one apologising to him.

As Jason sat there, he didn't put his arm around her shoulders, or even make any contact with her at all. But somehow, from the way Jason looked down at her with a warm smile, compassionate eyes, and a heart that was willing to understand, Spinelli suddenly felt comforted, and safe.

"So tell me, but only if you want," Jason said comfortingly, in an almost big brotherly way, "What's wrong?"

Spinelli sighed in depression, but smiled faintly at Jason's comforting nature. She felt as though she could really relate to him- she wasn't quite sure what it was though. It was almost like she was talking to another one of her older brothers.

"It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Spinelli looked inquisitively at Jason.

"Alright then. I'll take you up on that 'trust' thing." She took a deep breath and then began:

"I got into this fight with T.J. and Vince- they think I'm insensitive and that I don't care about anyone but myself…then Tyson…well I thought he was…I mean I-I-I…I thought he was different…you know what I mean. I'm…I'm sorry about that…" Spinelli sputtered. Jason nodded in complete understanding.

"And then I thought- no problem, I'll just tell Vitto about this and he'll fix Tyson good and square. But…But then when I told Vitto about it he…he just…" Spinelli sought to find the correct words for what Vitto did to her. "…He just didn't do anything. I mean, I expected him to be all protective and big brotherly and go beat the snot out of Tyson when I told him what happened! But…he just wasn't. And then…and then Tyson came in. Now, I at least expected Vitto to say _something_ to him about what he did, or at least about his plan to overthrow him- but he didn't. And then Tyson asked Vitto if he wanted to be his partner for the tourney- and you know what he did???"

Spinelli looked at Jason despondently, and he looked back down at her with compassion.

"He said _yes_…"

Spinelli looked down sadly, and Jason put a comforting, brotherly arm around her shoulder.

"Well, maybe your brother misunderstood you?" sympathised Jason.

"No, he understood alright…" replied Spinelli bitterly, "I could tell by the composed look on his face. It was like he didn't even care- like he was trying not to listen to what I had to say."

Spinelli sighed and put her head in her hands, still looking at the ground with despair.

"I'm tired too." Spinelli added sulkily, sounding somewhat like an upset little child. "And my dog hates me…"

Jason looked at the relatively little girl next to him with compassion and sadness, sorry that he couldn't do anything more for her than be a comfort. Suddenly an idea began to creep into his mind, and he grinned.

"You have a dog?" he asked with both interest and intent "What's its name?"

"Scruffy." Spinelli answered, both smiling and frowning in reminiscence of the patchwork dog.

"I like dogs." Said Jason with a grin. "Especially ones from ancient myths and legends. I even used one in my fighting name."

"Oh yeah?" Asked Spinelli, her interest seeming to perk up slightly. "What is your fighting name anyways?"

Jason smiled as he replied, "Cerberus."

"Cerberus…?" Spinelli pronounced slowly. "What- did you name yourself in the middle of a dentist appointment???"

Jason laughed. "No, no- Cerberus is a character from Greek myth. He was a hellhound who stood guard at the gates of the underworld. He supposedly had three heads and a dragon's tail."

"Whoa, really?" Spinelli said with fascination, looking up to Jason to go on.

"Yeah!" Jason answered, happy that Spinelli found his choice of name so interesting. He bitterly thought of his brother, who only thought he was a wussy loser for even _knowing_ about that clever kind of stuff.

Jason resumed his story in a deeper, more sinister voice for maximum effect. "Cerberus is said to have haunted the battlefields in the still of the night to feed on the bodies of fallen warriors. As the guardian of hell, he lay in wait, chained to the gates, ready to spring on unsuspecting souls, and to eat any who tried to escape…"

Spinelli stared up at Jason with awe.

"That…is…_so_…COOL!!!"

Jason beamed, amused by the response he knew you could only get from a ten-year-old kid- a downright appreciation for all that is gruesome and horrific.

Spinelli looked up at Jason and sighed. "Man, I wish Vitto was more like you."

Jason looked shocked and flattered. "Aww jeez Spinelli, thanks! But you know, Vitto's not such a bad guy."

"Yeah, right." Spinelli replied downheartedly, beginning to slip back into her depression spiral.

Jason looked over at Spinelli and decided to put his idea into action.

"Well Spinelli, I was wondering- since we trust each other and everything now, and since we both have such cool fighting names, _and _since both our fighting names suggest we come from hell- I was thinking that we probably shouldn't put all this similarity to waste." He looked over at her and smiled. "Would you like to be my partner for the tournament?"

Spinelli looked up at Jason for a second, silent. Then she smiled for the first time that night.

"I would really like that, Jase. I would really like that."

Jason grinned. "Alright!"

He then stood up and put a hand out to her. "We should really get back inside. We're missing all the good fights- and we gotta' start checking out the competition if we're gonna' kick some butt next week!"

Spinelli looked at Jason's extended hand and smiled. She took it and stood up, wiping the last remains of any proof she'd been crying from her face.

Before the two of them began to walk back down the corridor, Spinelli asked, "Hey Jase- didn't you have to check on that new bouncer guy at the front door?"

Jason shrugged and smiled at her. "He'll be alright. I've got more important people to look after."

Spinelli smiled warmly back at the redheaded boy. As they stood there sharing the bonding moment, a rather random thought popped into Spinelli's head.

"Tyson told me last night that I shouldn't bother telling Vitto about his plan, because Vitto's best friend had tried to tell him once, and he didn't believe him." Spinelli looked up at Jason. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Jason looked sadly down at the ground. "Yeah. Yeah, that was me…"

Spinelli looked at the floor guiltily. "I'm sorry about Vitto. I don't think he knows what he's doing…"

Jason looked up at Spinelli. "Oh no, it's okay- you don't have to apologise for your brother. Tyson's just a manipulating guy…"

The two stood there for a moment, reflecting on their brothers' betrayals. Then Spinelli looked up, and Jason looked up, and in the midst of the moment, they both shared the same sentiment.

Spinelli spoke, "But we're cool with each other, right?"

Jason smiled, and replied reassuringly:

"Sure thing, devil girl. Hell wouldn't be the same without us…"

* * *

**A/N: **Drools in sleep all over keyboard, making computer explode. Sleep talks: 'Review…review…please review......AAGH!!! GIANT MONKEYS!!!' 


	23. Out In The Open

**A/N: **Hey guys, yes it's me again…finally. Sorry I've been so long with this update, but this chapter is very short and I've been trying and trying to make it longer. It just doesn't seem to want to reach 1000 words. Nevertheless, it is quite an important chapter, and one I think some of you have been waiting for. Anyway, despite it's length, I hope you enjoy!

Oh! By the way, I don't know whether any of you have noticed, but it's been just over a year since I started posting this story (which proves just how slow an updater I am…), which means that this story is now _two_ years in the making (which proves just how slow a writer I am…). I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with me so far- your dedication is unbelievably appreciated- seriously. You rock like nothing else.

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
****By goofy monkey child  
**

**Chapter twenty-three: Out In The Open…**

Spinelli found herself back in the Seventh Heaven Society a few minutes later, waiting for the next fight to commence. She was in the absence of her new ally Jason who had stepped back inside with her only to be informed that the amateur bouncer at the door had accidentally let in a sleepwalking five-year-old, therefore prompting Jason to go and assist the new guard.

"Hey guys, could I have your attention please?" some kid's voice sounded over the PA system, causing many of the fighters to look up from their conversations to the guy with the microphone. He continued, "Well, it's once again Saturday night, and you all know that the big tournament's comin' up next weekend…" A round of raucous cheers and hollers came about from various parts of the room, "…Yeah, so that means that this is the last Saturday before the coveted tag-team title is reclaimed…" An even louder round of shouts and cheers came around the room, "…yeah, that's right- and around these parts, on the last weekend before a tournament, we like to hold a little thing called…" the guy on the microphone paused for dramatic effect, preparing for the deafening cheers that he knew were about to ensue, "…open-slather."

As expected, a riotous round of cheers came out from the crowd of fighters. Spinelli grinned at the other hyped-up fighters, impressed at their enthusiasm, wondering what this 'open-slather' thing was.

However, she had no time to ponder on her question as she suddenly found herself being shoved towards the ring by a hoard of anxious fighters who were almost hysterically making their way to the ring. Being so small in size, Spinelli soon became caught up in the unruly mob of teenagers, getting rather battered around in the process. She attempted to break free from the tidal wave of teens, trying to stop herself from being shoved forwards, trying to force her way out diagonally, but it was as if she was caught in a rip- no matter how hard she tried she was still getting dragged further and further out to sea. Knees were smashing into her chin, spiked boots were crushing her own feet, and she was getting violently shoved in all directions in the middle of the frantic scenario.

The next thing she knew, she was standing (shakily) in the middle of the ring, with about thirteen or so other fighters all in the ring with her. From what Spinelli could figure in the wild moment, 'open-slather' must have been an all-fighters-in, everyone-for-themselves kind of match. Spinelli probably would have considered this kind of game quite fun if firstly, she wasn't so disorientated from the aggressive scramble to the ring, and secondly, she had had time to think about some sort of strategy before…

_Ding! Ding!_

…the game began.

People suddenly began advancing everywhere- limbs were swinging, heads were swerving, and bodies were dodging. All bodies that is, except for tiny Ashley Spinelli's, of who's seemed quite confused and overcome by the moment.

Everything was moving too fast for Spinelli- there were too many fighters to take on- she couldn't handle the situation- she shouldn't have been there… and in the crazy moment she began to think: maybe she did have a habit of getting herself into situations she couldn't handle- maybe she did overestimate the things she was capable of doing- maybe she did have a problem with listening to other people's guidance even though they only meant the best for her- maybe she was completely insensitive to other people's emotions- maybe, just maybe, she really did need her friends…

Spinelli was suddenly stopped in her thoughts however as she looked up just in time to see a pink fist smash into the side of her head.

THWACK!!!

And then things went black for a while.

* * *

Spinelli felt her body being dragged carefully across a floor. She then felt herself stop and be laid down gently. She could hear loud, roaring voices in the background, but two specific voices could be heard more clearly from directly above her. 

"Is she okay?"

"I guess we'll see. She got smashed in the temple pretty hard."

She opened her eyes slowly, but found her vision was completely blurry anyway. Her head ached dully and she could feel something trickling from her nose. Despite the pain she felt she blinked her eyes a few times and attempted to clear her vision to see from whom the voices above her were coming from.

Two boys, one with dark skin and the other wearing a familiar red cap, were bending over her with concerned but knowing expressions covering their faces. Her head was resting on the red-capped boy's lap. She looked up at the two of them with a strangely crestfallen, repentant grimace.

"Guess I screwed up, huh guys???"

The red-capped boy smiled. "Yeah. But we got ya' now. We're all tender."

Spinelli smiled back, "We're all tender…"

And things went blurry once again…

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**A/N: **Hey, how 'bout a review for this one-year and two-year anniversary? Come on, show the story how much you love it by telling it with a review! Come on guys...please don't make me beg...okay, I'm getting ready to beg......PLEEEEEEEEEEASE REVIEW!!! I BEG OF YOU!!!! .....there, how was that? 


	24. Safety In Numbers

**A/N: **Okay my little...umm...people, here's a good long ('long' as far as my writing standards go at least...) new installment for all you cool dudes and dudets out there who read this thing.

TNPD-Man, I can't believe it. You and I have been for a whole two years! Wow!

Chellyburger- Thanks! Will do!

SD the dragon herself- Dude, that's one of the longest reviews you've ever written me- and only a small portion was on-topic...Lol! That's OK, I don't mind your babblings- I find it humorous listening to you complain about work. Dang, I wish I had a creative writing class to go to...

Dixie Darlin- Thankyou! I'm glad you're liking the story!

And now...let the chapter begin......

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-four: Safety In Numbers**

The two boys carried Spinelli home that night, the young girl unconscious and injured in their arms. However, when they arrived at her house at about midnight, they suddenly realised the predicament they were in.

"Umm, hey Teej? What are we supposed to do with her…?" Vince asked quietly as they stood in front of her house.

T.J. was somehow certain that Spinelli's parents would never consent to letting her roam the streets at almost midnight on a Saturday night- he knew for a fact that her parents didn't even know about the juvenile fighters' Society- neither did his or Vince's parents. Spinelli must have snuck out of the house. If they were to go knock on the door now and hand her parents their bloodied and bruised daughter, he knew the consequences wouldn't be pretty- for them or Spinelli.

But Spinelli was injured- were they supposed to just sneak into her room, dump her down and leave her there? Surely her parents would find her the next morning- what was she supposed to tell them? 'Oh, this bloody nose? I just had a nightmare I turned into Randall and I was beating myself up in my sleep…?'

T.J. knew the responsible thing to do would be to simply go and knock on the front door, explain the whole story to Spinelli's parents and give them their daughter to look after. He also knew that if he did that, Spinelli wouldn't be allowed out of the house again until she was at least forty. Spinelli had to be looked after that night, but T.J. couldn't willingly sacrifice her freedom…

He sighed tiredly. "Let's take her to her room."

And so they did. With quite an amount of difficulty, they managed to hoist themselves up the piping down the side of the house, with Spinelli over their shoulders, and climb into the girl's open bedroom window.

They then placed her carefully down on her bed. Vince gently took off her jacket, ski cap and boots, picked up her pyjamas from the floor and put them carefully on her over her clothes (just in case her mom happened to wonder why she was wearing street clothes- and dirty street clothes at that- in bed). T.J. grabbed a tissue and tried to wipe the dry blood from under her nose. When the blood didn't come off, T.J. grabbed another tissue, licked it as he'd always seen his mother do for him when there was something on his face, and cleaned the dark red substance away with an almost motherly delicacy. When both the boys were done, they pulled the sheets gently from under her and placed them over her torso.

Then they stood silently in the dark, moonlit room for a moment, watching the gentle rhythmic breathing movements of their young friend's sleeping body.

After a while, Vince whispered quietly, "So…what now…?"

T.J. adjusted the red cap sitting backwards on his head, inhaled deeply, and brought the steadfast guise to his face which made his chivalrous character so very famous.

"We wait…"

And so they did. Right into the early hours of the morning, T.J. and Vince sat by Spinelli's side, making sure she was okay, and soothing her to sleep whenever she awoke- no matter how tired the two boys got, they always remained by their friend's side, alert and at the ready if her medical needs happened to arise.

As the rare grey light that only comes from the earliest hours of the morning began to permeate the young girl's room, T.J. spared a weary glance over to the glowing digital clock beside Spinelli's bed.

"It's almost five." T.J. whispered to Vince, who jumped at his friend's voice as he was close nodding off. "We better get back to our own homes before our parents or Spinelli's parents wake up."

Vince nodded sleepily and stood up, walking over to the window and heaving himself out. T.J. began to follow Vince, before sparing a last glance over at the slumbering Spinelli. Her lavender and violet nose stood out in the grey early morning light, and T.J. suddenly remembered the last predicament. How would Spinelli explain her nose to her parents when she woke up?

T.J. found a scrap of paper on Spinelli's dresser and jotted down a short note. He then walked over to Spinelli and carefully slipped the paper in her hand.

He walked over to the window, and smiled softly at Spinelli before he left.

* * *

The sun was fully shining through the window when Spinelli awoke, and she rubbed her eyes blearily, getting progressively confused by the crunching sounds her right hand kept making.

She opened her hand to find a crumpled piece of paper with scratchy writing scrawled over it, which she read through the drowsy blur of her eyes: _'You ran into the bathroom door when you went to the bathroom last night because it was so dark. You didn't turn on the light because you didn't want to wake your mom and dad. You didn't think your nose was that bad so you didn't bother to wake them to tell them about it.'_

Spinelli read the paper at least three times, and then laid there staring at it for five minutes, before saying in baffled confusion:

"I ran into the door???"

She paused for a moment, before saying in even more baffled confusion:

"I wrote myself a _note_???"

She paused again and asked with so much bafflement and confusion she was surprised she even had enough understanding left to still be forming proper words:

"I wrote myself a note in the second person point-of-view???"

As Spinelli mulled in all her confusion and bafflement, a feminine voice sounded from not far outside her bedroom door.

"Oh Pookie- are you up yet sweetie???" Flo Spinelli asked her daughter with dripping maternal pride.

Suddenly the voice of one of her parents triggered the slow remembrance that comes with waking up- all the events she was blissfully unaware of suddenly came rushing back to her, as she recalled why she must have 'ran into the bathroom door', and who must have written the note for her.

Just before Spinelli's mother came into her room to inevitably find her daughter's injury and have Spinelli launch into her premeditated cover story, the young girl took a moment to appreciate the consolation of being friends again with one of the best plan-makers she knew.

"Dang," Spinelli said with an uncommon softness in her tone, "it's good to have friends…"

* * *

Vince and T.J. met up on Sunday afternoon after having slept for most of the morning, even though both their parents had dragged them to church, not listening to their sons' pleadings that they _really_ needed some more sleep. Both boys had proceeded to sleep through the vast majority of the sermons.

They met in the park on Thirteenth Street and sat down on the park benches tiredly. They were both thinking about the same thing- it was the reason why they had met up. Vince found the energy to speak first.

"Should we go see her?" He asked plainly.

"I'm not sure," Replied T.J. with uncommon uncertainty in his boyish voice. "If we go over there so soon it might seem a little suspicious- I don't want Spinelli to get in trouble or anything, and if her parents find out what we've been up to, she most likely will."

"Won't her parents ask about the nose thing?" asked Vince with concern.

"Don't worry, I left her a note. She'll be fine- her parents will take care of her."

T.J. looked a little unsatisfied with his conclusion, and Vince clearly noticed this. The anxious look on his friend's face was as obvious as a screaming match in a library.

"You're really worried about Spin, aren't you?" Vince asked softly, somehow already knowing the answer.

T.J. sighed restlessly, "I'm sure she's okay- she always is- I just, you know, wish I could have done more…"

Vince smiled at his friend's immense loyalty. "How 'bout we go see her tomorrow mornin' before school? And if she's as well as you think she'll be, we can walk her to school, hey?"

T.J. smiled, slightly more comforted by his taller friend. "Yeah, I think that'd be tender…"

* * *

So T.J. and Vince went to Spinelli's house the next morning before school at around 8am, knocking on the door to be met with Mrs Flo Spinelli.

"Oh, hey Mrs Spinelli!" Greeted T.J., "How's Sp-" T.J. paused, realising he wasn't supposed to know Spinelli's injury at all yet. "Um, I mean- is Spinelli in???"

"Sure, she's up in her room- probably still asleep. You boys can go wake her up if you like." replied Flo warmly, letting the boys inside. As T.J. and Vince began to climb the stairs to their friend's room, Flo called out again, "Oh, and boys?" The two turned around and looked to Spinelli's mother before she continued, "Ashley had a little accident the other night and hurt her nose- it's probably best you don't say anything to her about it. I think she's a little embarrassed- she can be so clumsy sometimes!" Flo chuckled lightheartedly, as the boys grinned knowingly.

"Thanks Mrs Spinelli." Replied T.J. as the boys finished their descent of the stairs.

As the two walked down the hall towards Spinelli's bedroom door, Vince began to set his mind to the future as he spoke to T.J.:

"Okay- we missed out on a lot of valuable training in these past few days, but that's okay- we can make it up if we work hard all this week! But we'll have to start as soon as possible because--"

"Vince…" T.J. said softly, interrupting Vince's plan. Vince turned around and looked to T.J. He had stopped walking and was looking to the ground, almost ashamedly, a pleading look welling in his eyes. He looked up at Vince, who just listened. The look in his friend's normally carefree eyes was far too serious for Vince not to know whatever he had to say was important.

T.J. spoke in a soft, insistent voice, "We _can't_ do this…" T.J. sighed. "Spinelli's hurt. We can't make her go through this- at least not until she's better."

Vince opened his mouth to speak, but T.J. stopped him, already knowing what his friend was about to say.

"I'm not trying to be harsh on you man, but you've gotta' stop thinking of Spinelli as your trainee, and just for a moment- think of her as your friend…" Vince lowered his head as T.J. continued.

"Your friend is _hurt_, and she needs time to get better. Now this may mean she'll miss out on the tournament. This may also mean that even if she does get better in time, she still may not feel like fighting again for a while. Whether or not you like it, this is up to her- not you."

"Either way, right now she needs time to rest and get back on her feet. If we don't let her do this, there's a chance she could get hurt again- even worse this time. And I don't know about you," T.J. took a deep breath as he looked to the floor worriedly, "But I'd hate if something happened to her…"

Vince watched T.J.'s emotional expressions as he said this. He looked over to the sandy-haired boy in respect. All T.J. cared about was Spinelli's wellbeing. Then again, T.J. had always cared about Spinelli's wellbeing, maybe even a little more than his other friends. Vince wasn't exactly sure why that was- he just figured it was because Spinelli was the one that seemed to get herself into the most trouble. But even so, T.J. still did what was best for her, while he, Vince, felt he had let her down.

He sighed. "Yeah- I'd hate _myself_ if something happened to her…"

T.J. smiled half-heartedly. "I probably shouldn't have been so harsh on her when we were fighting. I was just…fed up with her not realising other people's feelings. She seems to forget that a lot…"

"Hey," replied Vince quietly, "it needed to be said. It might have seemed like you were being harsh on her, but you were honestly just trying to help her. You know what they say, honesty is the basis of all strong relationships…"

T.J. looked to Vince slowly, not quite sure what Vince meant by that last comment. It didn't matter- Vince was already headed towards the young girl's bedroom door. T.J. simply smiled and decided to just let things be…

* * *

T.J. and Vince slowly creaked open the door of Spinelli's room on that Monday morning, and as quietly as they could, crept into the room. They stood beside the bed, looking down at the slumbering Spinelli with a small smile. When she was asleep, she looked as small and innocent as she did in the photo with her brothers from when she was four.

The young girl's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the boys scuffling into her room, and she laid there looking up at them with a lazy, tired smile.

"How's it goin' guys?" She asked, her voice hoarse and croaky from being unable to breathe through her nose last night.

"Ah you know, alright." Replied Vince.

"Can't complain." Said T.J.

Spinelli smiled and glanced across at the clock beside her bed. She looked at it in puzzlement for a second before looking back up at the guys.

"Hey, it's eight- why didn't you guys wake me up this morning?"

Vince looked to T.J. to let him answer. "Umm…we weren't too sure whether you'd be feelin' okay or not…"

"Oh." replied Spinelli quietly. "Is that why you guys didn't come over yesterday?"

"Yeah," answered T.J. "We thought it'd be better to let your parents take care of you if you were hurt. That, and we didn't wanna' seem suspicious coming around to see you right after your…umm, 'accident'." He motioned to her nose, which now had a white bandage taped over it.

Spinelli smirked. "My mom's so gullible sometimes…which is probably a good thing, since I'll have to make up another story if I get pummelled next weekend…"

Vince beamed. "Does that mean…that you're gonna' keep fighting?"

The dark-haired girl smirked. "Hey- Spinelli's _always_ keep fighting! I can't let all our hard work go to waste over a few little injuries, now can I?"

Vince let out a celebratory 'yes!', while T.J. just let out a long sigh of relief that his friend was okay.

T.J. spoke, "So, I'm guessing you're well enough to come to school?"

"Unfortunately, yes…"

He smiled. "Tender. We'll walk you there."

"And we'll have a nice chat on the way." Added Vince.

"Great, because there's a _lot_ that I need to fill you guys in on." replied Spinelli as she got out of bed. "Oh, for starters- you know what Jason said about Tyson? He was totally right about him! And- oh man! Guys, get this- Jason and Tyson are _brothers_! Can you believe that?! And- oh hey, speaking of Jason, we're gonna' be tournament partners! And then Vitto- huh, don't get me started on that guy…"

* * *

**A/N: **Can anyone tell me what AU means? I've been wondering for quite some time...does it mean something like 'Alternate Universe' fic? Maybe...? I don't know. Review if you please- because as I'm sure you all know, I can't make this fic better without a little constructive criticism and friendly encouragement...so...Hint hint... 


	25. The Buddy System

**A/N: **There is no excuse for the amount of time this story has gone without an update. I'm not going to lie. Plain and simple- I had major problems with this chapter. But it's here now, so let's not dwell in the past! This chapter is about twice as long as any of the previous chapters, so I hope that kind of makes up for the long stretch of no-update-edness (I know it doesn't…but hey, it was worth a try).

Thanks heaps to my lovely, lovely reviewers:

Dixie Darlin- Ah yes, there'll be much Tyson-beaten-up-edness to come- or will there...? Mwahahaha...

TNPD- Thanks for the AU verification. And cheers to the year ahead!

thesolitary-dragon- Single-handedly the shortest review I've even gotten. You should be ashamed of giving me so little feedback after _all_ I've done for you. Now hang your head in shame while I 'tsk' at you. Tsk, tsk, tsk...  
By the way, it's good that your fingers hurt. once they fall off completely- that's when you're a true guitarist. Mine are hanging by threads to my hands.  
Just dust in the wind...

thesolitary-dragon (again)- thanks for the explanation and tip with AU writing. I might try writingone as a challenge one day- an in-character AU fic. Oh, the oxymoron-ness...

Chellyburger- Glad you're enjoying the fic!

xiao chan- I'm pretty sure her first name's Kristen, but thanks heaps anyway!

Akiko Toshika- Thanks for the AU verification! It's much appreciated!

Now- on with the show! …Ah, fanfic. On with the _fanfic_…

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-four: The Buddy System**

So, the three friends went into the new week with a new prospect, new goals and a newly strengthened tether of friendship…

* * *

On Tuesday, the trio paid another visit to Kelso's and his 'Freezer of impending doom', as Spinelli had so accurately dubbed it.

T.J. once again found himself staring longingly at the multitudinous tubs of ice cream which surrounded himself, while Vince helped Spinelli prepare her techniques for the practice round.

"Okay Spin- you remember what you've learnt from the last times we tried this?"

"I'm pretty sure," replied Spinelli, "As long as I stick to wrestling and combat forms where I won't put myself at danger, I should be set as far as defensive manoeuvres go, right?"

Vince stared at Spinelli with both astonishment and joyful pride. "Wow…you actually _were_ listening to the stuff I was telling you…nice job…"

Spinelli smirked. "Yeah. I'm pretty good at stuff when I stop arguing enough to try…"

Vince called the two together to the middle of the ring- uhh…the middle of the _freezer_, as they prepared to face-off. He held his hand in-between them, then when they were ready, he swung down his hand and spoke:

"Go! Umm…I mean- ding ding!"

T.J. and Spinelli both bent their knees to keep in a state of readiness, not taking their eyes off the other as they began to subconsciously circle around the floor.

T.J. paced around wildly, only concerned with not getting himself pummelled, while Spinelli stayed agilely on the balls of her feet, watching vigilantly for any slip ups from her opponent.

And then it came- a small frozen patch of spilt ice cream came under T.J.'s erratic footfall, and he momentarily lost his footing- it was only a small falter, and only for a moment- but that was more than enough for the sprightly Spinelli to swoop down and strike her prey without remorse.

The lively raven-haired girl took the unbalanced boy by the shoulders and forced him forwards to land flat on his stomach. She quickly spun herself around and sat on his back, then grabbed his right leg and began to pull it towards her.

T.J. immediately yelped out in pain of the 'mercy' manoeuvre. Spinelli relented, letting his leg relax a little. T.J. however took the opportunity to uselessly try and reach his arms back to grab Spinelli, which by the way, was quite hard considering he was on his stomach and Spinelli remained to be pinning him on his back.

When Spinelli saw T.J.'s attempt to retaliate, she once again began to pull his leg towards her. T.J. yelled out in pain, but Spinelli just laughed.

"Tap out, punk!" she called back to the yelping boy.

T.J. gritted his teeth and tried to bare the pain coming from his tortured ligament. Spinelli just pulled his leg further backwards.

"I said tap out _punk_!" Spinelli spat in true professional wrestler style.

T.J. bit his lip as a bead of cold sweat actually trickled down his forehead in the arctic freezer room, and finally the pain was too much. He banged his fist against the icy floor and whimpered:

"Okay, okay! I give, I _give_!"

Spinelli let go of T.J.'s leg and stood up, dusting her hands and folding her arms triumphantly. Vince just clapped his hands as T.J. whimpered in getting up.

"Dude," said Vince, half-chuckling, "You squeal like a _girl_!"

Spinelli glared dangerously at Vince for the comment.

Vince caught sight of the threatening stare and, promptly, squealed like a girl…

* * *

On Wednesday morning, T.J. and Vince came into Spinelli's room at five-thirty as per usual. Vince walked over to the far window and pulled Spinelli's curtains open, while T.J. walked over to Spinelli's bed and wrenched back her covers.

Spinelli curled up her legs and groaned in annoyance.

T.J. spoke in a high voice, trying to mimic Spinelli's mother's voice. "Time to get up, Pookie!"

Spinelli flinched momentarily at the name, but then sighed. "Alright…"

To T.J.'s astonishment, Spinelli opened her eyes and slowly sat up, then looked up warily at the expression on T.J.'s face.

"What?" She asked, her voice cracking with early morning grogginess.

"You actually got up!" T.J. replied in amazement, "Without us having to drag you and stuff…that's impressive…"

"Impressive huh?" Spinelli said insipidly as she stood up, "Maybe I should _wake up_ more often. Might get my own spot on _Leno_…"

T.J. furrowed his brows, stunned and daresay, impressed, that anyone could be so eagerly sarcastic less than sixty seconds after waking up.

* * *

Spinelli clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes as she glared down at her opposition.

She growled in a low voice, "Alright obstacle course- it's just you and me…"

Spinelli then gave out a loud crusader cry and ran towards the objective jungle gym with her arms flailing wildly in the air.

The unruly young girl ran her way through the obstacle course as the two boys watched on, astonished and rather amused at Spinelli's enthusiasm towards the training.

As she came to a puffing halt next to them a few minutes later, Vince clicked his thumb onto the stopwatch in his hand and examined the time carefully.

"Eight twenty-two…" He read out loud, "Well, not tryin' to make you feel smug or anything, but that's a pretty nice improvement from last time- you cut two minutes off your record. That's not bad!"

Spinelli smiled bashfully as she caught her breath. "Yeah, well…this is kinda' the first time I've actually _tried_ to do my best…"

"Jeez Spinelli," said T.J., "You're good at alotta' things when you try your best. I wish you'd stop selling yourself short so much and try _trying_ more often- I think you'd probably find you've got alotta' talent…"

"Talent? Jeez, I wouldn't go _that_ far Teej…" Spinelli replied, looking down at her feet unconfidently.

"Now come on, that's what I'm talking about!" replied T.J. with friendly criticism, "Other people believe in you- but it's all nothing if you don't believe in yourself! You _have_ to have faith in yourself- like we have faith in you…"

The three stayed silent for a moment as Spinelli mulled over T.J.'s statements. After the few moments of quietude had died away, Spinelli opened her mouth to reply:

"As right as you probably are- that was the _corniest_ thing I've ever heard…"

* * *

That afternoon, T.J. decided to add his bit to Spinelli's repertoire of training by sharing in a personal specialty of his…

T.J. spoke, "If you don't mind Vince, there is one technique I'd like to teach Spinelli myself."

Vince gestured for T.J. to go for it, and T.J. stepped forward as Spinelli rolled her eyes, preparing for the stupidest technique yet. In a way, she was right to do so…

"Spinelli- I am going to give you a short lesson in something I am very apt at. I call it- 'Annoying your opponent into a false sense of stupidity'."

Spinelli just stared blankly at T.J. "Say huh…?"

T.J. grinned. "Exactly!"

Spinelli stared, if possible, even more blankly at T.J.

"Uh huh…"

T.J. noticed her puzzled expression and decided to explain.

"All you've gotta' do is just be _really_ annoying."

"I think I need an example." Said Spinelli, as she put up her fists in front of her, "Say I'm fighting you."

T.J. grinned stupidly. "I'm fighting you."

Spinelli looked confused. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"No it isn't." replied T.J., "_I _said that."

Spinelli put down her fists and stared at T.J. with a lost and confused expression. "What…?"

T.J. folded his arms over his chest, and beamed triumphantly.

"Exactly…"

Vince, who had been watching the event with a rather bemused expression, suddenly clicked his fingers.

"Oh, I understand now! _That's_ the technique!" said Vince, "But how is that supposed to help in a real fight?"

"It's sorta' like trash talk in baseball." Replied T.J., "The aim is to throw off your opponent's concentration by either annoyance or," T.J. motioned to Spinelli, who was still trying to figure out what T.J. had said before, "…confusion."

"Tender!" replied Vince, "That'll come in handy- most of the kids there seem pretty stupid." Vince looked over at the still mind-numbed Spinelli, and corrected, "Uhh…stupid-_er_."

* * *

The boys opened the door to Spinelli's room on Thursday morning, to be met with a sight that neither of them ever expected to see.

There Spinelli sat on her already made bed, awake, dressed, and ready to go.

"Hey guys!" Spinelli greeted as she put her boots on and looked to her bedside clock, which read 5:31, "Looks like you're a little late!"

T.J. stared blankly at Spinelli while Vince almost choked on his tongue.

* * *

Soon, the three were at Third Street Elementary again for Spinelli's morning training. T.J. and Vince watched on as Spinelli made her way through the obstacle course, taking any monkey bar, slippery slide and teeter-totter that came her way.

As she came running down the final stretch of asphalt to where the two boys stood, Vince clicked down on his stopwatch and looked at the digits in astonishment.

Spinelli stood panting for a moment before looking up at Vince.

"How'd _puff_ I _huff_ do?" She asked as she caught her breath.

Vince raised an eyebrow and pointed the stopwatch at her. "You tell me."

Spinelli looked at the numbers on the stopwatch and read aloud. "Five-forty-two. Is that good?"

"Five-forty-two! Are you kidding me?" T.J. yelped in astonishment as he grabbed the stopwatch to inspect for himself. "Spinelli- that's incredible! You've almost _halved_ your original time!"

"I actually _feel_ better doing it too- I mean, I don't get tired as quickly as I did doing it last week." Replied Spinelli.

"Your endurance has built up, that's why." Explained Vince, "Now when you fight, you'll be able to stay agile and on your toes for longer."

"Ohhhh…" Spinelli said slowly, suddenly dawning with realisation, "So this stuff really _does_ have to do with fighting…" She hung her head sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't trust in you Vince…"

"Hey come on, we've been through this. It's okay- it's all in the past." Vince grinned as he motioned to the stopwatch in his hand, "What matters now is this amazing time you just got!"

"Yeah Spin- I never knew you could move so fast! That was awesome!" Added T.J.

Spinelli grinned, for a moment hoping that the redness of exhaustion on her face would cover up the redness of her blushing. It was great to have the guys behind her again…

* * *

That afternoon came- the day before the big tournament was to begin- and since Vince had recommended that Spinelli give training a rest on Friday afternoon to store up her energy for that night, this would be her last session of training before she would have to fight.

The trio made their way to the park on Thirteenth Street, where Vince once again sat down his tape player with the recorded unlabelled cassette inside it down on the ground.

Spinelli and T.J. stood on the grass a few feet away, timidly separated from each other while Vince set up the tape. He took off his stopwatch from around his neck and sat it down next to the tape player, then stood up and turned around to the two of them, a serious and determined look covering his face.

"Alright you guys," Vince began, "This is it- our last session of training before the tournament tomorrow night." He looked over his two friends with slight nervousness as he thought about their past success with this dance training. "I'm afraid to ask…"

"Then don't." Spinelli replied bluntly, "Just play the tape…"

Vince walked over to the tape player, took one last look back at T.J. and Spinelli, sighed, and pressed 'play'…

The powerful tom drums pounded through the speakers, and T.J. and Spinelli looked to each other. The trombone sounded its first riff, and the two came together to take position. Vince bit his lip nervously…

And then the sudden accent in the catchy swing song came as the trumpets and bass made their dynamic entrance; the three kids knew this was the cue to begin the dance.

Spinelli and T.J. quickly began moving to the fast-paced beat, stepping and turning and pivoting in all the right places. Spinelli seemed confident in her moves, and T.J. actually seemed to have remembered most of his moves for once, even though Spinelli was clearly leading the dance.

Vince even relaxed enough to be very impressed with the improvements the two had made. But he didn't stay relaxed for long, when he realised what move was coming up- the one that Spinelli had never been quite able to nail…

The instruments began building up- T.J. and Spinelli were ducking and diving and moving around quite skilfully. The bass drum came in loud and hard- Vince got very, very tense. The brass instruments were going crazy- everyone knew what the next move was…

Spinelli and T.J. quickly grabbed for each other's hand, spun out from each other, and began to spin out into the full stretch- with Spinelli standing back on her own weight and T.J. leaning back and relying on her.

And the moment came- Vince tensed up, waiting in anxious anticipation to see whether or not Spinelli would drop T.J.

The two reached the full stretch of the spin- the music reached its dynamic climax- T.J. leaned back and…

Spinelli's hand slipped. T.J. fell backwards, about to hit the ground before Spinelli rapidly leapt forward and grabbed his hand again and yanked him back up to stand up again.

Spinelli then immediately grabbed T.J. by the hands and kept on dancing as if nothing had even gone wrong at all.

They kept on dancing until the song finally died out shortly after with a nice drizzle of all the big band instruments, a return to the original dance position the two had begun in, and a well-justified sigh of relief from T.J.

Spinelli looked timidly over to Vince for a response. Vince stayed silent for a moment, contemplating on Spinelli and T.J.'s performance. After a while, he looked over at Spinelli, and smiled.

"Nice job. You were quick and co-ordinated through the whole song, and when you made a mistake, your reflexes picked up on it in a heartbeat. You showed that you can improvise when things don't quite work out. But the most important thing is that now I know you're working for the greater product, not just yourself. You grabbed T.J. instead of letting him fall like you normally do. Now you can work as a team with your partner. Now you're thinking of other people- not just yourself. You did a very, very good job Spinelli. Our training is done."

Spinelli breathed in, and then let out a huge sigh of both relief and accomplishment.

T.J. congratulated her and Vince smiled in satisfaction as a soft, slow-moving tune filled the air. Vince suddenly remembered that the tape had kept running as he had recorded the record, and bent over to press the 'stop' button, before seeing a fluffy white object moving near his feet.

A small white dog was sniffing around the ground near his feet. Vince smiled, and leant over to pat the little dog, before it suddenly bolted across the park, holding something in between its teeth.

"Hey- my stopwatch! Get back here you little mutt!"

Vince went sprinting across the park after the little dog, yelling and cursing at it all the way. T.J. and Spinelli however, didn't seem to notice Vince's absence all that much.

"Man, I can't believe this will all be over soon." Said T.J., "It seems like you've been training for ages, but it's only been…what- two weeks?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah." Replied Spinelli. The two still stood close together from finishing the last dance, and now began instinctively swaying to the soothingly slow swing music.

"I don't know…I don't know about it all being over soon though…" continued Spinelli.

"But I thought you wanted to quit as soon as the tourney was over." Replied T.J. with surprise.

"Well yeah, I _did_, but…maybe I should keep up with the whole 'fighting as a sport' thing. I mean, even if I can't stay at the Seventh Heaven Society- I probably won't _want_ to after this is over…but even if I just did something like this for fun now and then. I mean, I'm way fitter than I used to be, and despite the injuries, I've actually felt healthier since I've started this, and…well, I suppose the training isn't _that_ bad…"

T.J. looked uncomfortably around at the park surroundings. "I'd sorta' gotten the impression you loathed every second of it…"

Despite the sheepishness in her voice, Spinelli put her hands on T.J.'s shoulders and looked straight at him.

"Hey Teej…" she said softly, as they continued to sway slowly to the music, "You know I'm sorry if I made you feel bad or something- I didn't mean to, I just…well, I wasn't thinking. It's hard you know, having to always live up to a certain way that people see you…I have to give up a lot of things to keep this 'tough kid' character going…and well…I'm just making excuses now, but the point is that I never meant to hurt you…and I don't think you're a 'disgusting freak of nature', as you so nicely put it."

T.J. looked up at Spinelli, and the dark-haired girl took the opportunity to look him straight in his clear, sky-blue eyes…

"Truth be told- if I had to dance with any guy…I'd be really glad if that guy was you…"

T.J. smiled and blushed, and the two continued swaying slowly, with Spinelli's arms around T.J.'s shoulders, as the sun sank low through the trees behind them…

* * *

Soon after, Vince finally returned with his saliva-covered and toothmark-encrusted stopwatch, and the three friends packed up and began for home.

As they walked through the park, Vince began to think over the past two weeks with fondness. He knew how hard Spinelli had worked, and how much progress she had made- not just physically either. He knew that Spinelli could have what takes to be one of the best. He not only knew it but he believed it in his heart. The only thing left was for her to put in the effort to make it happen.

"Spinelli," He spoke as they walked, "I've trained you and worked you for the past two weeks with all the techniques I believed would help make you a better fighter. I've shown you everything I think I could have in the time we had- I just hope that it's enough. You've got a natural talent Spinelli, that's for sure- it looks like it's in your family. But you're gonna' be up against some really tough competitors tomorrow- a lot of whom are gonna' be a lot bigger and _a lot_ meaner looking than you.

To take on the big guys, that takes something extra- something more than genes, or natural flair. Spinelli- I think you might just have that something. And with Jason on your side, I think you two might just have what it takes to go all the way to the top…"

Spinelli looked at the grass beneath her shoes. "I don't care about the top. I only want to beat _them_…"

Vince and T.J. didn't have to ask to know who 'them' referred to.

T.J. placed his hand on Spinelli's shoulder and looked into her eyes.

"Spinelli- I know it may not seem like it sometimes- or _most_ of the time- and you may not believe it yourself, but just remember: you _are_ one of the good guys. They're allowed to win once in a while…"

Spinelli grinned faintly at the sandy-haired boy as Vince rested a hand on her other shoulder.

"We believe in you Spin. We're with you all the way."

Spinelli looked from the dark boy on her right, to the sandy-haired boy on her left and smiled.

"Thanks guys…"

And as the trio walked out of Thirteenth Street Park together, side by side by side, T.J. spoke:

"Heh, I wonder if the other three are having as much of an exciting week as we are…?"

* * *

Mikey, Gus, and Gretchen sat boredly at the counter of Kelso's general store, staring blankly at their half-drank milkshakes sitting idly before them.

"I wonder if the other three are having as much of a boring week as we are…" spoke Mikey, too bored to even feel hungry. Well…maybe not that bored, he thought, as he leant forward for another slurp of his milkshake.

"Dunno Mike-o." Replied Gus, "I'm pretty sure Spinelli's really embarrassing disease thingy would be keeping them pretty occupied."

"Yes…speaking of which," spoke Gretchen, stopping from uninterestedly chewing on her straw to speak her point, "I checked all my research books on illness, and I can't find the symptoms of Spinelli's 'disease' anywhere. I can't help but think that there's something going on with those guys that perhaps we don't know about…"

"Like what?" asked Mikey.

Gus quickly livened up, "Maybe they're secret agents!"

"Secret _agents_…?" Gretchen repeated slowly, dripping with scepticism.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mikey.

"I can see it all now-" explained Gus, "I bet they've been called off to hundreds of missions before- fightin' bad guys, keepin' in touch with the President, flying all over the world- I bet that's why Spinelli's been sick lately! I bet she caught some tropical disease while she was taking a bullet for the President in- in- in _Australia_! Yep, there's no doubt about it- those guys are _definitely_ secret agents!"

"Gus," Gretchen started bluntly, "I highly doubt that Vince, Spinelli and T.J. have the time- let alone the _intellectual_ properties needed to fulfil such a job description…"

"Oh." Gus responded with disappointment. Mikey sucked the last drops of milk from his glass, creating a loud slurping sound amid the store.

Gretchen spoke again, "I doubt that it's even anything too serious, or surely they would have told-"

"Maybe they're aliens!" exclaimed Gus suddenly.

"Aliens!" Mikey whimpered worriedly.

"_Aliens_…?" Said Gretchen as she raised an eyebrow. "Gus, I don't think-"

"Yeah! I bet they're making calls back to their home planet-" Gus interrupted, "I'll bet Spinelli's caught some little 'earth' disease like the flu, that _their_ dumb alien race hasn't found a cure for yet! And that's why T.J. always wears that cap, and Spinelli always wears that beanie- they're hiding their alien _antennas_!"

Mikey whimpered. Gretchen narrowed her eyebrows in incredulity of Gus' wild imagination. "What about _Vince_?"

Gus clicked his fingers. "Yeah…I always knew he was too good at sports to be human! Aha! They're DEFINITELY aliens!"

"Oh good sweet Mike!" Mikey cried out, making a few people in the store stop and stare at the large boy and his friends.

Gretchen put her head in her hands in embarrassment and defeat. "Gus- you said that about the 'secret agents' idea! Don't you get it? The other guys aren't secret agents, or aliens, or, or, or anything like that! They're just three normal _kids_!"

Gus stayed silent for a moment, staring off into space. Then he took a noticeably deep breath in.

"Yeah, or at least…they've been made to _look_ like three normal kids…"

Gretchen promptly began to bash her head on the counter.

Gus continued obliviously, "That _has_ to be it…and it explains so much! T.J. would be a…a vampire! Yeah…and Vince would be a…hmm…a cyborg! And Spinelli…Spinelli would be a…a…" Gus gasped loudly- "A WEREWOLF! Of course, that's why she's acting weird- there's a full moon this month!"

"GUS!" Gretchen yelled aggressively, not caring about the odd looks she got from the other customers, "There are SO many things wrong with what you just said! Number one- Australia is _not_ a tropical country! Number two- _Earth_ hasn't even discovered a cure for the flu yet! And number three- there's a full moon EVERY MONTH! Get it through your obtuse mind- Vince, T.J. and Spinelli are just _normal kids_!"

Gretchen took a breath to calm herself, and was about to apologise for having to sound so harsh, but soon realised that Gus didn't even appear to have heard a thing she had said, being too zoned into another one of his famed paranoid rants…

"Oh boy…oh boy oh boy! Three supernatural friends…why didn't I see it before! It was so obvious, and yet…so deviously well hidden! Well- that's it! Those guys are DEFINITELY not normal kids!"

Mikey gasped at 'the horror of it all'.

Gretchen slapped her forehead.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, that last scene was so much fun to write! Heh…anyway, umm…do you reckon that…you guys could umm…do me a favour? Okay, see that little blueish kind of button down there that says 'Go'? Do you reckon that you could…you know…click on it? And then umm…write some stuff in the box that entails your reactions, feelings and analysis of this story or chapter? Thankyou sooooooooooooooooooooooo much if can do this for me! I owe you one! 


	26. The Rules, The Rebels, The Reckoning

**A/N: **Hello, long time no updates…it's been many months I believe…SEVEN? Oh man…I'm so very, very sorry…I've had very important final exams and…so forth with the excuses. I haven't forgotten this fic, or Recess, or anything like that, I've simply been very busy. But I'm here now, so…onward!

Thankyou to the following thoughtful and wonderful people:

the next political dynasty: Woo hoo! I rock! The word 'awesomest' rocks! Thankyou!

thesolitary-dragon: Don't you worry, I feel special every single time you review me with your consistently long reviews. I love getting your reviews, and don't you DARE leave the Recess fandom- don't give me none of that 'writer's block' crap, you love Recess and you know it! Get offa' your high horse and back on the Recess wagon!

Dixie Darlin': Yay! I was hoping you guys would find that scene funny! Thankyou!

Psycho-Freak-Chick: Riiiiiiiiight…we ALL believe you. Absolutely…coughposercough…

Umm…I dunno: Thanks so much! I think Spinelli makes an awesome fighter chick too (obviously)! And as for whether or not T.J. likes Spinelli in this story…well, that's up to you to decide… by the way, let me know how your name hunt went!

Madame Fist: Hey, thanks! Sorry it took me so long to write this! I hope you enjoy it!

Now let us move forth into the fic!

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-six: The Rules, The Rebels, The Reckoning **

"Mutiny." Said Spinelli to eyes in the slot in the door of 6/66 Rosewood Drive on Friday night at 8:50pm. The door swung open, and Spinelli, T.J. and Vince stepped out of the cold dark night, and into the cold dark corridor. They were met by a bouncer none of them had ever seen before who directed them down the corridor as per usual. They reached the thick timber door and pulled it open. Then they all gasped loudly.

There must have been at least eighty kids littered about the room, and more entering the door by the second, looking anywhere between the ages of eleven and seventeen. Fighters, trainers, bookies, sellers of other illegitimate items, kids in funny looking outfits, and kids who looked like they just showed up for whatever gig was playing tonight- these all spread throughout the basement area, creating an exhilarating buzz of commotion and thrill of the event to come.

Spinelli, T.J. and Vince worked their way into the room through the mass crowds, looking for some direction as to where to go or what to do.

"I guess we should try and find Jason first." Suggested Spinelli.

"Before he finds _you_…" A deep, ominous voice growled from behind the three kids. They whirled around to meet the husky redhead himself, grinning friendlily. "How's it going?"

"As good as can be." Replied Spinelli uncertainly.

"So, are we all set for tonight?" He asked.

"I guess as set as we could hope to be." Spinelli replied. During the week in the midst of her training, Spinelli and the boys had continued to visit the Seventh Heaven Society to discuss fighting techniques with Jason. The two fighters had conversed and resolved how to best use their individual abilities against the opposition, who would be best fighting which type of fighter, and matters of teamwork. They were as prepared as they could be with the time they had had, but Spinelli still felt a little uneasy.

Jason sympathised, "You're nervous, aren't you?"

Spinelli rubbed her tummy gently. "I've got about fifty-seven butterflies in my stomach, and every one of them is puking its guts out…"

"Hey Spin, don't worry." T.J. comforted, "You'll be fine."

"Yeah," added Vince, "Teej and I will be here for you, Jason will be with you- you got nothin' to worry about."

"I suppose…" replied Spinelli unconvincingly. "There's just so many people here…by the way Jase- why are some of these people wearing weird costumes?"

"Oh," Jason replied as he scanned around the room, "Some fighters like to wear costumes to events like this. Some like to keep up a secret identity, others just wear them to look cool. I wore one once- a dragon tail, a mask and two extra dog heads- you know, to go with the whole Cerberus thing? Well take it from me, you're better off without a costume. Except for one idiot guy who kept punching one of the dog heads, the costume only caused me trouble- it weighed me down, the mask kept falling over my face, and people kept grabbing me by the tail and pulling me into tap-out positions."

"Ouch." Commented T.J.

"Yeah." Replied Jason. "I was out within the first two heats. I've never worn a costume again."

A hushed, murmuring silence began to form its way around the crowds as a teenaged male Spinelli, T.J. and Vince had never seen before stepped up onto the commentator's desk, grabbing a microphone and speaking into it:

"Yo, check one, two? Awesome, we're on…okay everyone! Welcome to the Seventh Heaven Society tag team tournament, set up by our man Vitto Spinelli!" He pointed down into the depths of the crowds of kids while the audience applauded and looked towards the general direction. Spinelli, Jason, Vince and T.J. were too far away with too many kids in between to even catch a glimpse of Spinelli's older brother, but Spinelli still found herself swallowing down the hard lump forming in her throat…

The boy with the microphone continued, "…I'm gonna' be your commentator for the evening- yes, thankyou, thankyou- and I'd like to throw a big thanks out to you all for showin' up- this should be an awesome tourney!" The crowd cheered heartily, fully immersed in the energized exhilaration that the night had brought. "Alright then, let's get the boring bits over first- let's begin with the official rules of the tournament.

The fights will be carried out in a one-on-one basis. One team will take on another team- the winner of these two teams will go onto the next round of heats. We've got thirty-two teams tonight, so there will be three rounds of heats, plus a semi-final and a grand final. For each fight the winning team will be determined from a best out of three rounds. The structure of the fights will go as follows:

One person from each tag team will fight in the first round. The other two people will verse each other in the second round. During this time, there will be _no tagging allowed_. If one team wins both rounds, they immediately progress to the next heat. If the two teams are tied one-all, then the third round will take place, in which _one_ tag may take place. Once this tag has taken place, no more switches may occur.

The heats and the semi-finals will, time willing, take place tonight. The grand final will most likely take place tomorrow night.

Now as for rules: for all those who are regulars here at the Seventh Heaven Society, we do things a little differently in the tourneys. The count-out is three seconds only- not ten.

You will lose a round if you: a) leave the ring, b) are knocked out, c) get pinned for the three-second count out, d) tap out from a mercy hold,"

A small, derogatory snigger went around the room. It was common knowledge to fighters, especially wrestlers, that tapping out was the lowest form of losing. In Spinelli's terms, it 'proved you were a true coward'.

"…e) are caught with an external object aiding your fight, f) enter the ring without being tapped or when tapping is not allowed and it is not your designated round to fight, g) are caught cheating in any other fashion, or h) are unable to continue the fight for any other reason.

The winning team of the tournament will win this trophy," the announcer held up a shiny, but obviously fairly cheap trophy cup, with lettering inscribed on the small plaque on the front:

'S.H.S. Tag Team Tournament VI

First Place.'

"…And of course, our cash prize pool, which officially is standing at- wait for it- two thousand four hundred and eighty dollars!"

An uproar of cheering and hollering came from all the kids in the audience, whom now were in the hundreds. The announcer tilted the trophy forward to show the cash, predominantly all in twenty dollar bills, shoved inside the trophy cup.

"Okay, okay guys, settle down," the announcer shouted with a smile over the remaining cheerers as he put the money-filled trophy down on the commentator's table, " It's about time we got things on the roll. I think it's time for the order draw!"

Another round of cheering followed, and the announcer continued once the noise had died down:

"Each team's number is written on a piece of paper in this barrel." He patted a classic wooden barrel sitting beside him. "Our impartial judge and referee for tonight will pick out a number. He will then pick about another number. These two teams will be the first to compete. This process will continue until we have the line-up order of all teams. Please don't argue about your position. It's not necessarily better to go first or last, because your opponent will be in the same situation as you."

A sixteen-year-old male walked onto the platform, apparently being the impartial judge and referee, and gave a short, unsmiling, shy wave to the crowd before plunging his hand into the barrel.

He opened the slip of paper and read out: "Four."

Two 13-year-old boys near where T.J. and Vince were standing high-fived each other.

"Hey, it's King Bob's trainee." Vince said to T.J., referring to the darker-haired of the two boys.

"Yeah, and I think the other guy is Spinelli's cousin." T.J. replied, referring to the auburn-haired boy with richly tanned skin. He had the same square-ish chin as Vitto, and probably would have been considered quite handsome if he had looked like he could have cared less. He had the same 'screw-you' kind of visage that all the Spinelli children seemed to unknowingly possess. T.J. thought he could possibly be the closest matching to a male version of Spinelli.

The boy on the platform announced the second team, who would verse Team Four in the first heats: "Thirty-two."

As she wasn't in view of the chosen team to see what they looked like, Spinelli looked up to Jason and asked, "Jase, what team are we?"

"Seven." Replied Jason with a friendly grin which masked the nervousness he was feeling in the ditch of his stomach.

"That's cool, seven's a good number." Replied Spinelli with somewhat the same anxiety showing in her mumbling, breathy vocal tone. "Umm, also…"

"Vitto and Tyson are number six." Spoke Jason just as his mouth appeared to change from a nervous smile to a slightly fretful lip-purse.

Spinelli exhaled tensely, "Yeah, that's what I was wondering…"

Six pairs of number drawings onwards, the judge pulled out the next number.

"Thirteen." He said.

"Unlucky." Commented Vince offhandedly. The judge pulled out the second number.

"Six."

Jason and Spinelli felt simultaneous quivers down their backs. Jason replied morbidly, "Very unlucky indeed…"

Nine more pairs of teams were drawn, meaning there was only one pair of teams left to draw.

"Twenty-one." Called the judge, before diving his hand into the barrel to retrieve the very last slip of paper.

"Seven." He finally called.

Spinelli let out a breath, and in doing so slumped her shoulders. "We're _last_?"

"There's no shame in going last." Spoke Jason, "In fact, it gives us a chance to check out what the other teams' fighting styles are like. Speaking of which- _we_ need to go over our strategies again."

"Right." Said Spinelli affirmatively as they moved out of the crowd to find a better place to talk, leaving Vince and T.J. happily watching as the first fight was being introduced.

Both boys had to admit that the set up for this tournament was a lot flashier than any of the usual fights. White and coloured stage lights were set up all around the walls near the ring, with kids on ladders acting as lighting crew, swirling and focussing the lights at appropriate moments to give a rather energetic and commercial fighting atmosphere. Also, the commentator and referee were two teenagers Vince and T.J. had never seen before- assumedly because they were 'impartial'- and they both looked a little more experienced and professional than the random fill-ins which usually took the jobs.

Suddenly the whole place seemed to go a bit darker as many of the lights focussed and swirled around on the so far empty boxing ring. The voice of the commentator boomed over the surround sound stereo system:

"Ladieeees and Gentlemen- please welcome to the arena our first fighters of the eveniiiiiiiing!"

Some blend of instrumental hip-hop music began pumping through the speakers behind the voice of the commentator, in realistic wrestling and boxing styles where each fighter has his or her own 'entrance' music. T.J. looked around the room and noticed the stereo tape/CD deck over on the side wall with no one manning it, and figured it must just be on auto play.

The commentator continued, "In the left corner we have Team Four- he's the lizard man with a ferocious plan, the cold-blooded creature with a fighting style to match- it's the Komodo Dragoon!"

The boy named Tommy leapt into the ring with vigour. King Bob, or Robbie as he liked to be called, could be seen just outside the ring, on the ground just outside the ropes, cheering with the rest of the crowd for his trainee.

"Secondly- he's your physician of pain, your doctor of doom, and he'll write your death certificate need the case arise- it's the Spiiiiiiiin Doctoooooor!"

Nick Spinelli vaulted over the ropes and into the ring as the crowd cheered for him and his teammate. He flashed a defiant, seditious smirk towards the audience, and a few teenage girls grouped near T.J. and Vince squealed excitedly. T.J. looked to Vince for an explanation.

Vince simply shrugged, and replied, "Must be that mysterious, rebellious thing that girls apparently like so much."

T.J. looked over at the group of swooning girls, then up at Nick, and then into random space as he contemplated the theory.

"Weird," he commented, "I wonder if it works the other way too- guys likin' _girls_ who are rebellious and mysterious…?"

At that moment, Jason and Spinelli returned to the two boys, ever so slightly more confident in themselves after reviewing their strategy plans.

T.J. looked inquisitively out of the corner of his eyes at Spinelli as she looked up at the now progressing fight.

Spinelli looked away from the fight for a split second- and, predictably, in that split second she just happened to catch a glimpse of T.J. staring at her side on.

"What are _you_ lookin' at?" She asked insolently, giving him a rebellious, bad-ass glare topped off nicely with a small, mysterious smirk.

"Uhh…nothin' Spin." T.J. replied, feeling the smallest amount of giddiness come upon him.

He looked back towards the ring, content and slightly amused that he found his answer so very quickly.

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**A/N: **Alright! Spinelli's a hot bad chick…but we knew that already. Well…I did. If you also think Spinelli is a hot rebel, please leave a review, entailing your love for Spinelli (and, if you so desire, this story…) 


	27. Face Your Fears And Fight

**A/N: **Howdy all you movers and shakers! I'm so excited I'm actually updating FINALLY!

Anyways, here would normally be the part where I thank all of you wonderful people for reviewing my sorry ass, but I have been informed that it is now against rules to _thank reviewers_…in your notes, at least. Pfft I say! Pfft and pfft again! Thanks to everyone who reviewed- y'all rock my socks off!

Onward, mighty pen! …keyboard. "Cough"…

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**  
A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-seven: Face Your Fears And Fight**

About half an hour had passed and Spinelli and Jason had gradually begun to gain their confidence back. Five fights had taken place, and the sixth was being ushered on now.

Jason, Spinelli, T.J. and Vince watched on as Team 13- a boy and a girl both aged around fourteen- were introduced ala flashing lights, techno beats and extended syllable commentary. The crowd whistled and cheered happily for them as the commentator turned his attention to the other, empty side of the ring.

"And now," he began in an emphatic tone that preluded that something important was about to be announced, "presenting Team Six-"

Before the word 'six' had even escaped from the announcer's mouth, the crowd was suddenly ignited with cheering, hollering and wolf whistling- in fact, it was possible that the small gang of four somewhere in the middle of the huge crowd were the only ones not cheering enthusiastically for what was to come.

Lights swayed and glimmered brilliantly, undeniably grating hard thrash music thumped through the arena and the fantastic tumult of the crowd lifted the scene to an excited frenzy.

But it was all a faded echo to Spinelli because it was then that she saw them…

Two males strode unblinkingly up to the ring and leapt up and over the ropes in a single bound. As they landed inside the ring without a falter, Spinelli unconsciously held her breath. It was the first time she had seen Vitto or Tyson the whole night. She wished it could've been the last…

The commentator continued amidst the wild cheering crowd, "First- out of the embers of a mighty inferno he rises, striking with the power of a colossal blaze…it's _Firestorm_!"

Tyson stepped forward, meeting the cheering crowd with a patronising sneer and a condescending bow. Spinelli stared at him- he looked slightly more malicious than always, reminding Spinelli of a starved Doberman- thin, bony and craving for any blood it could get its hands on.

"And secondly," the crowd's cheering had already begun amping up, "spawned from the very fires of hell, striking terror and fear into the souls of his opponents- he is the nightmare in your mind, he is the monster under your bed, he is…_Diavolo Child_…"

The crowd went simply berserk. Spinelli felt a painful pang in her chest as she stared at her brother- Vitto looked downright indestructible. He was completely impassive, with an underlying scowl and eyes so strong with caginess he might scare you out of the ring before ever throwing a punch. The beloved owner of the Seventh Heaven Society simply nodded his head once in recognition of the animated crowd before him.

The commentator quickly left the ring as the referee entered. One member of each team also exited the ring while the other moved to the centre of the ring where the referee resided.

He called out, before stepping back from the two combatants, "Let the fight- BEGIN!"

And, from then on, it was a massacre.

Tyson raged a quick and bloody battle against the girl of Team 13; Vitto trounced the boy with a single blow.

"Yikes." Vince murmured to T.J., who in turn gave a short, worried glance to Spinelli and Jason.

* * *

Nine fights on, during the third round of the current battle, Jason nudged Spinelli. 

"I think we're next- finally." He said.

Spinelli looked up at him vaguely. "I think I'm gonna' puke."

Jason sympathised, "It'll be okay kiddo. Let go of everything else and just have fun. Remember why you love fighting."

The match ended with a double 'ding' from the bell, and a roaring of the crowd.

"Good luck you two!" Vince called to Spinelli and Jason before they walked over towards the ring to prepare.

The lights once again dimmed as hip hop music boomed over the speakers:

"Presenting Team 21-" the commentator spoke as lights swirled wildly around the bottom left corner of the ring, "She's large, she's in charge, she's the redhead you wouldn't wanna' meet in a dark cafeteria- Kaptaaaaaaaaain Kruuuuuusheeeeer!"

Kristen Kurst stepped into the spotlight of the ring, raising her meaty fists into the air and smirking confidently. She wore a rather scanty, tight wrestling costume, not especially flattering to her hefty size either; in fact, the mass amounts of flabby flesh sucked against the body-hugging costume would have been enough to make any normal competitor shield their eyes, if not run away in disgust. The crowd, obviously used to this kind of costumage by now, simply created a mix of cheers and boos.

"Secondly- she's lean, she's mean, she's one heck of a fighting machine- Feeeeeeeemme Fataaaaaaaleeeee!"

Suebob Murphy stepped into the spotlight next to Kurst, punching the air with a single fist. She was wearing a much more flattering costume than her team mate, although her lanky frame made the cape tied around her neck sit rather awkwardly down her tall, skinny back. Most of the crowd cheered and booed as they did with her teammate, except for T.J., who yelped in utter disgust:

"Femme Fatale? YOU WISH! Senior Fusion wouldn't pick you as his sidekick if you were the last kid on earth!"

"Hey, shuddup!" retaliated Suebob, "Or do _you _wanna' come in this ring and taste a bit of this?" she yelled as she held her fist up to the boy outside the ring.

T.J. willingly went to stride into the ring to defend his favourite superhero's honour, but Vince pulled him back by his collar, and spoke into his ear:

"Don't be stupid Teej- if the devil girl doesn't get her, the dog boy will…"

T.J. grinned.

Up on the outside of the top right hand corner of the ring, Spinelli and Jason looked over at their opponents inside the ring.

Spinelli noticeably relaxed. "Hey, it's just Kurst and Suebob- I can fight them!"

"Kid," Jason said warmly, as if 'kid' were the highest compliment he could give someone, "You're a Spinelli. You've got nothing to worry about."

Pounding drums, noisy guitars, a thunderous bass and raw vocals suddenly began to pump through the speakers.

Jason leant over to Spinelli again. "Oh I forgot- I hope you don't mind, but when I signed us up they asked me to write down a 'theme song' for us, so I just chose something I knew."

Spinelli smiled as she listened. She liked it, whatever it was. It was like a wall of sound, but still with a clear melody- something not to be reckoned with, but something with a purpose. Kind of like Team Seven.

"What is it?" she asked.

Jason replied, "Oh, it's called '_Hell'_…"

"And," the commentator continued over the music, "presenting Team Seven- first…with teeth sharply bared from all three of his dog heads he lies in wait, standing guard at the very gates of the underworld- the guardian of the grave, the hound of hell, the fighter in the flames- heeeeeeee's Ceeeeeerrrbbeeeeerrruuuuuuusss!"

Jason climbed into the ring gracefully, waving meekly to the crowd who acknowledged him with cheers and whistles.

"And lastly," the announcer spoke again, "what she lacks in size, she makes up for in _kick-ass_: she's the wings of the butterfly, the stinger of the bee, the eye of the tiger- please welcome: _La Niiiiinaaaaaaa Diaaaaablllooooooooo_!"

Spinelli took one last deep breath and ran over to the ring, vaulting over the ropes and landing lightly on her feet on the floor of the ring next to Jason. She was mildly surprised when the crowd cheered for her almost as much- if not more than they had for her partner. She could hear T.J. and Vince's distinctive catcalls from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, and she laughed and stuck a fist in the air to recognise the cheering crowd before her.

The boy acting as the referee then climbed into the ring, and the commentator left to go and take his position at the announcer's table.

Spinelli looked to Jason. "Who's goin' first?"

"You can if you want." He replied.

"No, I don't want, really. I feel a bit sick again. You go for it dog boy." She replied as she exited the fighting ground.

On the opposite corner of the ring, Suebob Murphy and Kristen Kurst were having a similar discussion. Well, if you could call it a discussion.

"Well, I ain't goin' first. _You _go first." Stated Kurst.

Suebob replied, "Okay, I'll-"

"No wait!" Interrupted Kurst, ignoring her partner and looking over at the other corner of the ring, "Spinelli's getting out. Well, I ain't takin' on the Spinelli punk- that kid's nuts. _You_ can go second- _I'll_ go first."

Suebob rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll-"

"Wait a second!" Kurst barged in, again taking no notice of Suebob and looking warily over at the other corner of the ring. "That other guy looks pretty big and tough…you know what? I'm feelin' nice today- _I'm_ going to go second and _you_ can go first. You're lucky you got such a good friend like me as your partner Suebob."

The scruffy brunette grunted at her redheaded friend. "Just get outta' the ring before I whack _you_ one."

Jason and Suebob moved to the middle of the ring where the referee stood. Jason looked down at the costumed pre-teen with a wince.

"Oh no- you're wearing a cape." He said.

The bell dinged twice to signify the start of the round. The referee stepped back, and Jason took a defensive boxing position while Suebob just stood there with her thin fists raised.

"So what if I am?" She asked him indignantly.

Jason sighed. "Take it from me- you're better off without a hindrance like that. Just take the cape off now and then we can start."

Suebob narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "…_No way_- this cape's an essential parta' my costume. You're just tryin' to get me to take it off coz' you're threatened by it's awesome _powers_!"

Jason pleaded, "No- I really don't think it'll be fair to you if you keep it on-"

Suebob held up her bony finger to signal Jason to stop talking. "The…cape…stays…"

Jason shrugged, but smiled nonetheless, and moved towards Suebob. "Fine, have it your way."

Suebob backed away from Jason's advances, but with little effort Jason had soon backed her into a corner.

He sighed comically, looking at his scrawny, distrustful opponent one last time before progressing to inevitably kick her butt.

"Sorry costume kid- I have issues."

Without laying a finger on her, Jason grabbed the ends of Suebob's cape and began whirling her around the ring.

Suebob squirmed and tried desperately to untie the cape from around her neck but it was far too late. Jason released his grip on the cape, sending the gangly girl flying across the ring- and _out _of the ring. As soon as she hit the floor outside the ring with a light 'thud', the referee gave a thumbs-up and the fight bell rang, signifying the end of the round.

"The winner of round one-" announced the commentator, "is Cerberus from Team Seven!"

The crowd roared, and Jason hopped out of the ring with a grin plastered on his face.

He chuckled as he stood down next to Spinelli. "They never do learn, no matter how often you tell 'em. Oh well- your turn, kiddo!"

Spinelli took a deep breath, shook the nerves out of her limbs and climbed into the ring. She stood in the middle somewhat nervously. Kurst then climbed into the ring- somewhat furiously. The crowd was still cheering, and somewhere in the din, Spinelli could still hear T.J. and Vince's voices- and suddenly she felt a little calmer…

_Ding! Ding!_

The ref stepped away and the two girls brought up their fists, staring down at each other guardedly.

'Okay relax,' Spinelli thought to herself, 'you've fought Kurst before. You know how she works. Just watch out for the-'

Kurst reared back her right fist ready to plant a hook just like the last two times Spinelli had fought her.

The fist flew forward, and Spinelli ducked, feeling the wind from the punch just whoosh over her hair.

Spinelli looked up quickly- from her crouching position and the inertia of Kurst's throw, she was right where she needed to be for a counterpunch.

She drew down her own right fist, swung up, and with the help of the spring in her legs, placed an uppercut smack-bang under Kurst's chin.

The 'whack' sound resonated through the noisy room. Spinelli sprang back from Kurst with her cover up to her face- the larger girl didn't move, but seemed to sway a little in the spot where she had received the blow.

Spinelli kept on her feet with her guard up, waiting for Kurst to pursue her. But the redhead simply stood still, with her fists by her side and a strange glower on her face.

Spinelli looked over at Kurst in puzzlement. The larger girl was making to attempt to retaliate or even hold up her guard.

Suspicious that it might be a ploy but nonetheless confused at her opponent's behaviour, Spinelli moved slightly closer to Kurst, looking at her with perplexity.

The referee moved over to the two girls- he also looked at Kurst with confusion. The noisy crowd softened slightly as well, looking into the ring with mystification.

The referee walked up to Kurst and waved a hand in front of her face. Kurst remained motionless- not even her eyes moved. He clicked his fingers in front of her- the same results occurred.

Spinelli just stared at Kurst, dumbfounded. It wasn't until she noticed the distant, glazed over look in Kurst's eyes that realisation dawned on her, and she began to smile.

The referee looked from Kurst to Spinelli, shrugged, grabbed Spinelli's hand and held it up in the air.

As soon as her arm was pointed towards the ceiling the crowd erupted into cheers.

Spinelli grinned widely as the audience before her cheered her on with enthusiasm. Amidst the applause, Spinelli could hear the voice of the commentator over the speakers:

"And the winner of round two is La Nina Diablo of Team Seven! Boy, Kaptain Krusher is _out on her feet_- you don't see that everyday! Now Team Seven have won two out of three rounds and will automatically progress to Heat two of the competition!"

Spinelli looked over at Jason in their corner, who grinned broadly and gave her a thumbs-up. They'd made it one heat in at least, Spinelli thought to herself.

Maybe there was more hope than she'd thought.

* * *

**A/N: **Gotta' love it when the good guys are happy, he he- NOT FOR LONG, SUCKERS! Oops, did I say that? Kidding, haha! …Or am I…?

Now for a kind of important matter…important to me anyways. As some of you might or might not know, my dream is to one day have my own animated series being broadcast on the t.v. for all to see and enjoy. Well, for all to _see_, at least. But my main problem is that I have no clue how I'm going to break into the industry- and besides this the animation industry in my country is a fairly dead-end street. I am planning to go to university and complete a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing Production, to give me some scriptwriting qualifications, but I'm just wondering whether this is the correct way to go.

If ANYONE out there who reads this who has any knowledge, ideas, or KNOWS anyone within the industry, anywhere in the world, I would REALLY appreciate some advice on how to get into the industry, whether uni is the correct path for three years, who to send my ideas to, etc.

This has been my career dream since I was twelve, and I don't want to see this slip through my fingers just because of a lack of knowledge. I'd be deeply indebted to anyone who could help me out.

Next update coming…eventually. Hopefully soon :)


	28. The Jab Five

**A/N: **Lately, I've been deeply saddened by the lack of attention that the Recess section is getting. It's weird, in the years I've been following the fandom, it tends to fluctuate every few weeks/months between sudden popularity and GhostTown-ness. But this time it's been quiet for a while… I hope it's not the end of an era or anything. I still love Recess so much…

On a much brighter note- YAY! UPDATES! Well… one, at least. Woot-ness. Feel the wrath of updates! Feel it? All warm and fuzzy-like… eww… it's not supposed to be fuzzy…

A big thanks to Chellyburger, Dixie Darlin, Paris Marriott and Angel Oscuro- Dark Angel a.k.a 2NSANE4U (long pen name! lol…I think there's a 30 character limit now) for reviewing- you guys make me all warm and…well, not fuzzy- something _like_ fuzzy, but not so gross…

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-eight: The Jab Five**

"Aaaaaaaaaand Flying Fox goes FLYING out of the ring thanks to Diavolo Child!"

The dishevelled black hair of Greg Skeens flapped gracefully in the breeze for a brief moment…as he flew chaotically through the air- before plummeting into the teenage crowd with a roar of unceremonious screaming.

The portion of the crowd not knocked roughly to the ground by ninety-one pounds of Flying Fox applauded passionately for the remaining fighter in the ring, Vitto Spinelli.

"The winner of Round One is _Diavolo Child!_" Yelled the commentator enthusiastically.

Down amongst the crowd, Jason Tyzack looked up in the ring at the dark brown-haired fighter and sighed deeply. He looked over to his own blonde, freckle-faced brother standing at the edge of the ring and narrowed his eyes. He looked back at Vitto, formerly one of his best friends, and chewed his lip ponderingly while trying to mentally make sense of the past year or so- including his little brother's rancorous and shameful plots, Vitto's betraying distrust of his warnings, and the increased distancing between himself and Vitto Spinelli…

'_I just don't understand…'_

* * *

  
"Next up in the Heat of Team Twenty-Two versus Team Six," The youthful commentator gesticulated wildly to the opposite corners of the ring, "It's _The Con-Man _versus _Firestorm_!" 

_Ding, ding, ding!_

Tyson moved rapidly to the middle of the ring floor, as did his carrot-topped opponent Conrad Mundy. Tyson was first off the mark, and came towards Mundy with his fists guarding his torso. Quickly, his leg shot around to hook Mundy in the abdomen.

"The Con-Man takes a kick to the stomach," The commentator dictated, "but it doesn't look like he's licked…"

"Ow!" Mundy rubbed his stomach, advancing back on Tyson. "Hey, I need that for eatin'!" Mundy bent down low as he ran towards the blonde boy, grabbing him by the knees and tackling him to the ground.

Tyson fell to the ring floor with disorganized thuds, and immediately set to escaping the other freckled boy's grasp on his legs. He kicked and writhed wildly while Mundy clamped onto his legs like a skinny, red lobster.

"Quit squirmin'!" Grunted Mundy as Tyson's flailing flung him around every which way.

"Let me go you hick!" Tyson's left leg slipped free from Mundy's crocodile-wrangler grip, and with it he thrust his boot smack into Mundy's nose.

"Ooh, Con-Man gets a blow to the nose, and Firestorm gets free from the defence hold…"

Mundy crawled backwards, wiggling his nose in soreness.

"Ah man, I can't afford to lose this one! We already got us one loss- if I lose this one then…" Mundy paused from crawling to count on his left fingers, "that makes two rounds of losin' and we're out!"

Tyson leapt to his feet angrily and made for Mundy. "Oh, isn't that great? He can count! Now you can figure out how many more dimes it'll take fer' you an' your sister to buy that trailer you been eyein'!"

Mundy, still on all-fours, looked at Tyson and said, "Whoa, what'd you say about my sister?""

Tyson belly-dived plumb across Mundy's back, collapsing the latter to the floor.

Tyson sat up on Mundy's back, legs either side of Mundy's torso, and pulled his adversary's legs back towards himself.

"And Firestorm gets The Con-man down- the ref starts counting: _one, two, three_- and he's outta' there! The Con-man is down- the winner of Round Two is Firestorm! Team Twenty-Two leave the tourney, and Team Six progress to the next heat!"

The crowd cheered as Tyson got up, revelling in his victory, showboating for the crowd.

* * *

Spinelli bit her cheek in frustration as she watched Tyson show off. She turned to Jason and asked with a glower-

"Who we got next?"

Jason thought. "Umm… I think it was Team Nineteen that got through: 'Forty-something' and 'Wriggles'… or something like that. Why?"

Spinelli looked back towards the ring. "Coz' I got me some anger to express…"

* * *

"For the last round of Heat II please welcome our fighters to the ring- Team Nineteen, _Fort Fortify_ and _Wrigley Boy_!" 

The two boys in the far corner- one an undersized brunette boy with rather wicked eyes and the other a dark-skinned boy with a backwards baseball cap and a pair of shades- raised their hands to the cheering crowd. A song reminiscent of early nineties pop rock played over in the background.

"And Team Seven- _Cerberus_ and _La Nina Diablo_!"

The crowd revved up again as the familiar sound of Team Seven's theme song 'Hell' boomed out of the speakers. Spinelli acknowledged the crowd and grinned at the excited shiver sent up her spine by the catchy song.

Jason gave her a tap on the back. "You wanna' go first this time, kid?"

Spinelli looked to her two young male opponents who were conversing amongst themselves.

"May as well. Those two are basically the same anyhow."

"You know them?"

"Kinda' yeah. The kid with the shades and cap is Chewy, and the guy with the nasty look is Jocko. They're bully goons at my school."

"Oh. So is this fight gonna' be like, personal?"

"Nah. These guys are just lackies for an even _bigger_ goon-head."

Jason, and on the other side of the ring Chewy, jumped out of the ring. Jocko and Spinelli met the referee in the centre of the ring, and Jocko gave a sinister grin to the dark-haired girl.

_Ding, ding, ding_!

WHACK!

Spinelli clutched her stomach, doubled over and gasped for air. Jocko had kicked her in the stomach almost immediately after the bell, and clearly she hadn't been prepared for an attack so quickly.

Spinelli caught her breath and regained her defence as fast as she could. Jocko had retreated back to the other side of the ring wearing a leer of sadism. Spinelli inhaled deeply and moved slowly towards him with her fists raised before her.

"So Jocko, where's your loser leader Lawson?"

Jocko stayed put, slightly crouched with fists clenched and at the ready.

"Psh. Lawson? Are you kidding me?" He hissed. "Lawson wouldn't last five minutes in a place like this! He's not the tough sort."

Spinelli couldn't help but grin at Jocko's comment.

"Then why do you and Chewy follow after him?"

Jocko scoffed. "Tch. Because- who in a gang gets in the biggest trouble when stuff goes wrong and you get caught? The leader, that's who! Lawson's such an egotistical dope he thinks he's runnin' the show… I mean, you're clearly tougher than that Detweiler half-wit- why else would you stick with that monkey-brained ape?"

_WHACK!_

"…La Nina Diablo sends a fast jab to Fort Fortify's stomach!" sounded the commentator.

Jocko stumbled back from Spinelli, a hand on his wheezing stomach.

"Because," said Spinelli, advancing on the brunette boy, "he's there to keep us tough kids' egos in check."

Her fist shot out for another jab- this time at Jocko's face.

"And Fort Fortify gets a jab to the cheek- oh but he's VERY quick to retaliate- he's on the attack! Jab! Jab! A kick to La Nina Diablo's arm!"

Spinelli cantered lamely back to the other side of the ring, escaping the sudden attacks. She could already feel the round bruises forming- almost similar to the welting pains of being struck by moving baseballs…

Jocko moved towards Spinelli, his slicked-back cocoa brown hair waggling slightly as he dashed towards her.

Spinelli smiled, despite the aches forming in her body. "You think I don't know how to bounce back from a little pain? You should know I learn from the masters!"

Jocko reached Spinelli and sent a high kick flying rapidly to the side of her face. Without time to dodge, it slapped her cheek bitingly.

However, without a moment's hesitation she struck right back, delivering a neat left hook to his face. Jocko stumbled back for a step, and Spinelli didn't waste any time in pursuing him to finish the job.

She reared down her right fist, swung under forcefully and made a slamming, cracking connection with the underlay of Jocko's chin.

"La Nina Diablo strikes with another INCREDIBLE uppercut! Is this it for Fort Fortify?"

As Spinelli's fist struck contact with Jocko's chin, a number of cracking noises filled the air: one lot being Jocko's teeth clacking against each other with extreme force, causing one or two of them to crack a small split down the bone and send blood spitting from the combatant's mouth; the other lot being some of the small bone fragments in Spinelli's fingers fracturing and slicing off in small shards. The white skin of her knuckles broke simultaneously with the fist-to-chin impact, leaving skid marks of blood along her knuckles.

Jocko fell to the floor of the ring.

"The ref counts: one, two, three: and he's down! Fort Fortify's down for the count! La Nina Diablo wins round one of the Heat!"

The umpire grabbed Spinelli's left hand and raised it high in the air, to the joy of the audience who hollered for the winner of the round. Spinelli shook her right hand sorely and hissed through her teeth in pain.

Once the umpire let go she exited the ring, passing by Jason at their corner.

"You right?" He asked, pointing at her hand.

"Yeah, it's all good." Spinelli winced. "Crackin' some fingers never hurt anyone. Good luck!"

Jason nodded, and Spinelli moved down into the crowd cradling her hurt hand lightly. When she reached T.J. and Vince, the two boys patted her on the back, both physically and metaphorically.

"Nice one Spin!" Commented T.J.

"Yeah, you keep flaunting that awesome uppercut and you got this thing made!" Added Vince.

Spinelli shook her head. "I don't think I'll be doin' that move again tonight." She brought forth her right fist to show them. The small grazes on her knuckles were licked raw and flesh-blood red, and the palm side of her middle and ring fingers was already blackened with purple and blue tinges. "I felt somethin' crack when I popped the cut to Fort _Stupid-fy_."

"Hmm, lemme' see…" Vince raised her hand to inspect it. "Can you bend 'em?"

Spinelli tried to bend her fingers; they wiggled slightly, but she winced before they got out very far.

"Mmmkay…" Vince continued in a rather doctor-like tone. He squeezed the insides of all of he fingers very lightly, checking for abnormalities. He then checked the back of her hand at the grazes, making his diagnosis.

"I think you've just got a few small fracture fragments… that's just where a few little shards of your bones get sliced off… you'll be able to move your fingers properly again by tomorrow evening, but you'll have a whole lotta' bruising… just try to keep it elevated when you go to bed. On your knuckles, you've just broken the skin. You might just wanna' put a band-aid or a few on to stop all of the bleeding."

T.J., listening closely to what Vince was saying, bent down for something.

"Man Vince, how do ya' know this?" Spinelli asked, a small grin on her face. "You sound a bit like _Gretchen_!"

Vince shrugged humbly. "After years of sports injuries, I guess I just _have_ to know this stuff." He gave an uncharacteristic glare to his friend. "And I am _so_ not like Gretchen!"

"I have band-aids!" T.J. finally spoke, standing back up from scouring through the dark blue backpack he'd brought with him. "And I've got bandages and tweezers and a splint too if you ever need it…"

Spinelli burst into laughter. "And T.J.'s turning into Gus!"

"I'm not!" T.J. protested, taking Spinelli's hand in his to apply the band-aids. "I'm just conscious of your safet- …yeah, okay, that was kind of Gus-like, huh…?"

Vince watched closely as T.J. tended to Spinelli's fist grazes.

"I feel kinda' bad." Said T.J. "You know, about keeping all this from the others."

"It's better they don't get into this." Spinelli replied. "I mean, look at how much trouble it's almost- OW! Watch it Teej!" She winced, glowering at T.J.

"Sorry Spin," He replied, tentatively laying a second band-aid on her fists, "I'm almost done…"

Spinelli's face softened. Vince turned away almost mechanically to watch the fight.

"Sorry…" Spinelli apologised, looking at T.J. with an empathetic expression, "I'm…I'm just not used to havin' people fussin' over me, ya' know?"

"Yeah, I know." T.J. smiled, and released Spinelli's hand.

The raven-haired pugilist looked down at T.J.'s handiwork- her fist sported four band-aids splayed across her knuckles, each with tiny colourful pictures of famous wrestlers like Killer Calhoon and The Mad Masher. It was such an individual… almost child-like gesture- she couldn't help the delicate smile that beautified her face…

"Thanks Teej… you uhh…" she smiled somewhat bashfully, "… you really know how to pick a band-aid…"

T.J. looked at Spinelli, and grinned- with a gratefulness in his smile that Spinelli didn't think she would ever be able to shake from her thoughts.

"No problem, Spinelli. No problem…"

* * *

**A/N: **What did you say about monkey-brained apes Jocko? -_Flashes fist to Jocko_- Aww. I'm kind of a fan of the malevolent-lookin' guy. I hope all you guys know which one he is… he has squinty, slitty eyes and this perpetual toothy scowl that make him look like he's in a constant state of constipation. I suppose it would be easy to be evil-looking then… Reviews would be incredibly appreciated… I really love all you reviewers. So much so that I feel I may indeed be _in_ love with you… ALL of you… -_Giggles in a puke-ingly girlish tenor- _ …let me know if YOU feel the same way by leaving a love-review. Go on. You know you _love_ me back…

…Hopefully…


	29. Goon Vibrations

**A/N: **It's some sort of power of God that I've actually updated within the span of two months- that's incredible for me! I owe it to 'Damusen' and 'lilerin91' for getting me to update quickly. Without your awesome reviews it may have been another seven month affair...cough

Anyway, I won't keep you guys a-waiting any longer- here's the chapter, and it's a nice long one! ;) Have fun!

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter twenty-nine: Goon Vibrations**

"…The Jackal forces the Spin Doctor to the floor of the ring- looks like he's getting worn out…"

Nick Spinelli's wafting auburn hair hung over his face as he was pushed to the ground roughly. His opponent, Jack, was a skinny, weedy, greasy bleached-blonde haired boy, who under normal circumstances Nick would have had little difficulty in fending off. But he'd already defeated Jack's partner The Trouncer just minutes before, and he was tired. He hated that he wore out so very easily; it was his biggest weakness in battle. He was just lucky it was Round Three and he still had the option to tag his own partner Tommy into the ring.

"One…" called the referee, "two--"

Nick pulled himself off the ground just in time and looked around the outskirts of the ring for his partner.

"…The Spin Doctor pulls out of the referee's count and it looks like he's looking to do a tag…"

* * *

In amongst the increasingly boisterous audience, Spinelli and the three boys watched on at the fight. 

"Go Nicky boy!" Called Spinelli to the ring, "Get that greasy, whiny-faced jerk!!!"

"Hey, isn't that 'Jackal' guy the one that threw up his chips onto you and _that_ kid?" T.J. motioned to the boy standing at the edge of the ring, Nick Spinelli's tag team partner Tommy.

Vince chuckled. "Yeah, that was pretty funny."

Spinelli glared at Vince. Jason grinned. "Team Eleven are going to lose… mmm, by knock out, if I'm not mistaken."

"Huh? How do ya' know?" Spinelli asked sceptically, despite her desire to see The Jackal get pounded into the ground.

"I don't _know_, really. I'm just guessin'…"

* * *

"…And The Jackal is once again after The Spin Doctor- oh, but he's done the tag! The Spin Doctor has tagged in his partner, The Komodo Dragoon- now both teams are down to their last fighters; I don't have to remind you folks that which ever team wins this will be the first of out four teams to progress to the semi-finals!!!" 

In the instantaneous moment that Nick dived out through the ropes, Tommy leapt in, leaving The Jackal, who'd been prowling after Nick, to come to a screeching halt.

"You are just lucky…" Tommy spoke with a rancorous, yet focussed and satisfied smirk, "… that I don't follow that whole 'eye for en eye' philosophy, Puke-ahontas!!"

* * *

"The winners of Round Three are The Spin Doctor and Komodo Dragoon! Team Four are the first team to progress to the semi-final, and we say so long to Team Eleven, who now leave the competition!" 

The referee held up the hand of a triumphant Komodo Dragoon, who excitedly lapped up the audience's applause. Jack, The Jackal, crawled limpingly to the edge of the ring, pained from a scatter-braining blow to the head.

"Wow, I guess you called it, Jason." Said T.J. to the older redheaded teen.

"Yeah, ever thought of getting into sports forecasting?" Added Vince.

"Naw. It's not that hard to pick if you know the kids. Besides, my general rule is basically that… well, the 'bad guys' go down. Maybe not straight away, but eventually…"

"Oh, well duh." Spinelli replied frankly. "Bullies get served."

Jason cocked his head with a contemplative grin. Spinelli continued with an unsettlingly middle-aged cynicism within her tone. "Although I'll bet I can guess who wins the next round…"

The four of them looked up to the ring, where Team Six were prepared to take on the next team…

* * *

"So the winners of the match- Team Seventeen! Team Twenty-Five leave the tournament and Team Seventeen will move on to join Team Four and Team Six in the semi-finals!" 

The crowd applauded heartily for the winning team, a young boy and teenage girl, who jubilantly celebrated in their win.

Half an hour had passed since Heat Three had commenced, and Spinelli yawned with exhaustion. She looked up at the rustic wooden clock on the far side of the wall- it was already quarter past eleven, over two hours after she was normally asleep. On her left, T.J. sighed through the end of a yawn.

Spinelli beamed with childish glee. "Ha ha! You caught my yawn!"

Vince laughed and teasingly elbowed T.J. in the arm. The freckle-faced boy grinned sheepishly. "Come on guys, I'm tired!"

"You kids are priceless…" Jason said with a laugh. He looked at the ring and suddenly jumped with a shock of reminiscence. "Whoa kid, we're on next!"

"Wha-?" Spinelli started, before being grabbed by the arm by Jason and pulled through the crowd over to the ring. "But there have only been three fights for this heat. I thought we were last in order?"

"We are." Jason replied as they reached the ringside. "It's Heat Three: there's only eight teams left. Next is the semi-finals- if we make it through there'll only be four teams left- then there'll be the grand-final, tomorrow night, probably…"

"Are you serious? It's the semi-finals next? Wow, we're doin' awesome, huh!"

"Yeah, we're not doing too bad at all. Let's not get ahead of ourselves though: usually the higher up you go, the harder the fights are."

Jason and Spinelli watched the two combatants from Team Seventeen as they exited the ring at the corner where they stood. The young boy hopped down from the ring, followed by the teenaged girl. The boy scooted past Spinelli, and Jason stepped to the left to let the teenage girl past, just as she stepped to the left. Jason moved to the right awkwardly at the same time the girl decided to step right. Once more they both moved to the left in sync.

Jason chuckled bashfully. "Sorry-"

He was interrupted as the girl grabbed him by the shoulders and twirled him around manually so she was finally past him.

"No problem." She said with a chuckle and a wink, and walked off.

Jason watched after her and the younger boy with interest. "That's who we'll be facing if we make it through this Heat."

Spinelli's eyes roamed from the two leaving fighters to around the other side of the ring. "Who're we facin' now?"

Over beside the opposite corner, Spinelli laid eyes onto two large and rather imposing twelve-year-old boys, Bradley and Eric: the two goons who'd followed the orders of that weasel-face Randall and given T.J. and Vince rather nasty shiners. Spinelli boiled within her ferocious musing for a moment, but then realised that there was a better time and place for this emotion to be allowed to run riot.

"Jason?" Spinelli called. Jason looked down at her inquisitively. "You know how I said the last Heat against those bully goons wasn't a personal fight? Well this one _is_…"

* * *

"Please welcome to the ring for the last fight of Heat Three: Team Fourteen: _Tyrant-osaurus Rex_, and _Bruddah Boom_!!!" 

The two meaty boys bumped chests as the crowd whistled over the lively hip-hop theme tune.

"… And our other combatants: Team Seven- _La Nina Diablo_, and _Cerberus_!!!"

Jason and Spinelli beamed as the audience hollered supportively. 'Hell' played over in the background. Jason moved away to the middle of the ring and Spinelli hopped out, crouching over to step through the ropes.

Jason reached the middle of the ring and smiled down at Bradley, who in turn returned a half-witted glower.

"What?" Bradley spat.

"Just wondering." Said Jason. "Would you class yourself as a bully?"

Bradley shrugged his unwieldy shoulders and gave his opponent a toothy sneer. "Uhh, I guess. Sure, why not?"

Jason rolled his eyes with amusement. "Well, I can think of at least _one_ reason why not. You know that bullies get served, right?"

* * *

Three 'dings' sounded shrilly in the violent air, and in amongst the abruptly screeching audience, one boy inaudibly hummed a jazzy tune to himself. He grabbed his head in frustration. 

"What are you _doing_?" Vince asked, looking down from the fight to see T.J. clasping his brain.

"I've got a song stuck in my head!" He said with irritation, "It's been in my head for a week now! It's that stupid swing jazz music you made Spinelli and I dance to… the tune's driving me nuts!"

"You know what I do when I've got a tune stuck in my head?" Vince replied. "I listen to the song a couple of times. Then I get so used to what it sounds like that the annoying parts that get stuck in your mind just kind of slip out of your memory. Works every time for me!"

"Yeah?" T.J. asked.

"Yup. I'll tape '_Swingin' Tunes_' to a cassette tape tomorrow and give it to you to listen to a few times. That be cool?"

"Yeah, thanks man!" T.J. replied. He looked back up towards the ring to where Jason was currently winning a very one-sided battle.

"Cerberus throws Bruddah Boom into the turnbuckles and delivers a NICE inside knife-hand strike to Bruddah's back! Cerberus's karate expertise seems to be giving Bruddah Boom some major problems…"

Bradley pulled himself to his feet. Jason chuckled to himself as he watched the boy stumble around. Slouching from the blow to his back, staggering around the ring dopily and with that perpetually half-brained look on his face, Bradley looked a little like Dr. Frankenstein's henchman, Igor. Jason put the amusing thought aside to prepare for any counterattacks- besides, he thought, Igor probably had a higher I.Q. than this guy anyway.

Bradley swung his stout fists around aimlessly in Jason's general direction. The redhead easily outmanoeuvred the younger boy, and quickly worked his way around to the other side of the ring.

"…Cerberus comes from behind… an '_ura tzuki_' to the back of the head- that's a close punch to us not involved in the karate world- and Bruddah Boom is on the floor! Cerberus has Bruddah Boom pinned down with a shoulder hold! The referee's in- _one, two, three_ – it's over! Bruddah Boom's down-- Cerberus wins Round One!"

Spinelli cheered for Jason as he came out of the ring, dusting his hands with a satisfied grin. She smirked as he spoke with a chuckle.

"Bullies get served…"

* * *

Spinelli and Eric came together in the ring. Spinelli looked up at the tall, muscular, chestnut-haired 6th-grader with a vengeful pout. Eric didn't even make eye contact with the slightly younger female. 

_Ding! Ding! Ding!!_

Spinelli quickly took her defensive boxing stance, before spotting the band-aids on her right fist.

'_Oh yeah…'_ She thought, '_Maybe I can still-'_

Eric began advancing on her, and out of force of habit Spinelli swung her right fist towards him. It made a light contact with his left cheek, but not with nearly enough force that it would do him any harm. Spinelli on the other hand was in quite a bit of pain- she winced as she stumbled quickly away to the other side of the ring, clutching her hand tenderly. She turned hesitantly around to see Eric clumping across the ring after her. She turned away for a short moment to compose her thoughts.

'_Okay, so maybe I can't punch him_.' She thought. Eric came up behind her and pulled back his gargantuan fist.

Spinelli spun around just in time to see Eric's bulky arm project toward her face. She ducked swiftly, and promptly ran away to the other end of the ring.

'_Think, Spinelli, think! So I can't use my fist, we know that much, right? So what do I do when I can't punch 'em_?'

Spinelli thought back to her training time with the boys. The painful pangs in her fingers and fist reminded her somewhat of the time she'd taken a swing at T.J. when they were in Kelso's freezer…

Eric came charging towards her with his arms outstretched and bent to grab her.

Spinelli grabbed hold of the ringside ropes behind her and climbed onto them, standing up on the second-highest rope, holding onto the top rope for support, bobbing up and down on the bulky elastic like she was bouncing lightly on a loosely coiled trampoline.

'_What am I, stupid?!? Why didn't I just wrestle him in the first place? Man… who'd have thought Vince's crazy training would pan out? First the baseball training, now the freezer training! All that's pretty much left is that stupid dance!'_

As Eric just about reached the ropes where Spinelli was situated, she took an extra-pressured jump down, then leapt off the elastic tope and flew into the air, somersaulting clear over Eric's head just as he bent down to grab her by the legs.

"…La Nina Diablo springs into the air off the ropes- aww, look at that somersault- that'll get a ten from the judges for sure!"

She landed agilely on her feet and went running to the other side of the ring.

Eric spun around, looking hastily for where his opponent had disappeared to.

She ran full-force into the rubbery ropes, pressing her full weight into them and then letting inertia do the rest.

Eric saw Spinelli running into the ropes and came running towards her with vigour and force. But all of a sudden _she_ was coming towards _him_ with a lot more vigour and force than he had managed.

Before Eric could realise what was happening or even stop himself from moving forward, Spinelli's left arm shot out, straight like a steel shaft, and the two rapidly moving forces met.

Or rather Spinelli's 'steel shaft' forearm met with Eric's stomach.

"…La Nina Diablo clotheslines Tyrant-osaurus Rex like a baseball bat, and Rex's knocked to the ground!"

The ground under Spinelli's feet felt like it shook as Eric hit the floor on his back. He groaned and wheezed as he writhed around, winded from the fall. He rolled onto his stomach and got shakily to his hands & knees. The ref stood by, waiting in case a count-out was needed- but Spinelli had other ideas about when this Round would end.

"…And it looks like Tyrant-osaurus _might_ just have the strength to get back up for one more-- whoa, but hold on- La Nina Diablo is back up on the corner ropes for a… what's that she's signalling for…???"

Spinelli had her thumbs hooked together, waving her other fingers together as if her hands were a little bird flapping its wings. But then she unhooked her thumbs and separated her hands, still flapping like little wings, spreading them further and further apart until her own arms were outstretched either side of her body. Her finger wings flapped peacefully apart for a second… before one lightning move where she slapped her hands together violently, where they then stayed dead and unmoving.

"It's the _Flying Press_!!!" Exclaimed the announcer with enthusiasm. "La Nina Diablo has signalled for the Flying Press!"

The already riveted crowd got slightly more excited. Somewhere amongst the throng of teens a voice started belting out:

"Flying Press! Flying Press!"

Soon enough the major portion of the crowd was chanting to La Nina Diablo.

"Flying Press! Flying Press! Flying Press!!!"

Spinelli looked with awe to the vocalized crowd before her. To be in control of the articulation of an audience this size… it was almost mesmerising. _Almost_.

She snapped out of it and looked down at Eric, still stumbling and scrambling in the middle of the ring floor. With one last faith filled inhalation of air, she raised her arms high above the crowd, bent her legs, and released a war cry.

"FLYIIIIIIIIIIIING PREEEEEESSSSS!!!"

She literally dived off of the ropes and soared through the air, arms outstretched like some sort of predatory bird in flight.

Time slowed down for Spinelli as she descended. The look of impending doom on Eric's face as she swooped down on top of him made Spinelli smile with utter satisfaction.

BAM!!!

Spinelli landed on her challenger with force, and Eric let out a small scream- he had been flattened to the ground from Spinelli's shoulder weight collapsing flat onto his back. She would have been no more than ¾ his size but she knew where to concentrate her weight to extract maximum impact.

This time the ref stepped in and began counting out the hits to Eric, who was simply on the floor moaning in distress.

"One… two… three!"

"He's outta' there folks!" Yelled the commentator, and the crowd screamed joyfully in return.

"La Nina Diablo is the Round Two champion! Team Fourteen are out of the tourney and two round wins means that Team Seven are the last team to progress to the semi-final!!!"

"Yeah!!!" Spinelli rejoiced, standing up and revelling in the audience's positive reaction to the win. It was hard to hear anything amongst the incredible noise of the crowd, but somehow in the din Spinelli stooped down over Eric and managed to get out the words:

"Hey Eric- I must be your new butler or somethin'- coz' you just got _served_!!!"

* * *

**A/N: **I wrote that last line grudgingly, I can tell you. I was like 'I need a way to end the chapter by referring to one of the recurring themes… but that line is so _lame_! Spinelli's funnier than that!' Then I didn't come up with anything else and just thought I'd try my luck with the line. 

Reviews would be really, really appreciated! Plleeeeeeeeeeease? ...Nobody likes a beggar. But… people like _buskers_! What if I BUSK for you?!? Review busking! You review me, and I'll play you a nice little review song. You… won't be able to hear it… but I put my monkey guarantee on it that I will do it! Besides… it's the thought that counts…


	30. Bite Fight Incites Spite

**A/N:** I hope everyone had a happy Christmas and New Years. If not, then just know that my prayers are with you :). God knows this can be a tough time for some people, so He's usually prepared with a comforting peace when we need it. After all, He's great enough to share his birthday with us…

There's about THIRTY WORDS MISSING from this version of the chapter to the version of the chapter on my computer. You know when you bring a document up in the fan fiction . net document manager and it has a word count of this apparent document? Well, this word count is about thirty words shorter than the word count on Word with this same document... fanfiction-dotnet- i shall have my words yet!!! I SHALL HAVE MY WORDS BAAAAAAAACK!!

I'd now like to take this space to thank my reviewers, as I generally do here. Screw fan fiction rules, it's for a good cause. Ze people need to be thanked!!!

Thanks very much to lilerin91 (lol, here you are with the newest update, and it's longer than usual! Sort of…eh, eh), Lanekimfan (I'm so sorry I didn't make it in 2006! IT WAS HARD!!! Lol...), 0-Royal-T-0 (You are just awesome, hehe. $wink$ ) and Paris Marriott (short but sweet review, I'm glad to see you're still alive and reading Recess fanfiction ;)). Ya'll are awesome with a capital G. Gawesome, man.

Oh, you'll have to excuse my crazyness rantings, I'm not on drugs. It must be a chocolate high of some sort. (They say: "Chocolate _is_ a drug!") Well 'they', technically that is true, but you see I am still right because…… $$dashes off, leaving the story to introduce its darn self for once…$

* * *

**  
A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter Thirty: Bite Fights Incite Spite**

"For the last time, no!!!" T.J. said, thwarting the attempts of another young hustler to sell him a packet of cigarettes. He asked the boy on the left of him: "Do I _look_ like I wanna' smoke???"

"I dunno'. Maybe they think that the younger you are, the stupider you must be." Vince replied.

"Here we are folks! It's been a long night so far, but we've finally got ourselves whittled down to the final four teams!" The announcer waved wildly around at the four teams standing behind him together in the ring. "Give a huge round for our semi-finalists!"

The entire room gave their cheers for their top four teams, with the exception of a few teens who felt it was more worth their while to glower sulkily at the teams who had only lately beaten them.

Tommy, Nick, Vitto, Tyson, Jason, Spinelli and the two fighters from Team Seventeen all disappeared from view as the house lights faded. Swirling coloured lights began dancing crazily around the entire room, accompanied by pulsing, energetic beats. The crowd watched mesmerised at the amazing light show. Suddenly, all the lights snapped together to focus on the announcer:

"Let's get it _ooooooon_!!!!!"

* * *

"Please welcome to the ring our first two semi-finalists, Team Four: _Komodo Dragoon_ and _The Spin Doctooooooooooooorrr_!" 

Nick Spinelli and Tommy looked distinctly less confident than they had for the previous part of the tournament- and with good reason…

"…aaand our second team of semi-finalists, Team Six- _Diavolo Child_ and _Firestoooooooooooormm!!!_"

…Because Vitto and Tyson weren't giving away any such signs of weakness at all. Vitto had his deadpan poker face on, his arms crossed across his chest and an air of unexcited indifference emanating to the cheering kids in front of the ring. Tyson was doing a rather splendid job of copying Vitto's actions glower for glower, with the exception of that small weaselly leer that refused to be erased from his façade.

Tommy and Tyson both moved their way into the mid-ring, and the starting bell sounded with the traditional triple ding.

Tommy immediately retreated with his fists up, hoping that Tyson might follow him and hence fall into his soon-to-be-laid-trap. Tyson predictably pursued his prey, advancing on the submissive 'victim'.

"Komodo Dragoon backs away- Firestorm follows after him. It looks to me like he's hankerin' for some street-style fighting, but he'd better watch himself, as us locals to the club know that Komodo Dragoon is a devious and unpredictable lizard…"

* * *

T.J. strained his neck, standing on his tip-toes in a vain attempt to try and see over the tonnes of teenagers that had moved in between him and the ring. 

"Man this whomps! I can't see a thing!!!"

"Let's move up the front." Suggested Vince. Jason and Spinelli already stood over next to the ring in the competitors' special waiting area, so the two boys wriggled their way through the forest of teenager knees to clearly see what was going on in the ring.

They finally arrived near the front of the audience, only to find themselves standing next to a teenage boy who was yelling his metaphorical lungs out towards the ring.

"Great, now we can't _hear_ anything!" Vince yelled to T.J. over the collective noises of the crowd.

"COME ON TOMMY! PICK THOSE LEGS UP! KEEP THOSE EYES ON FIRESTORM- DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!!!"

They both looked over to the yelling boy with indignation, only to realise exactly who it was.

"King Bob- OOF!!!" Vince was poked forward roughly as a knee went into his back. He turned around to come eye-to-nose with a rather powerfully built teenaged male who looked daggers down at the younger boy. Even though he was clearly tall enough to see over Vince without any difficulty at all, he still said:

"Watch it _kid!_ You wan' I should kick your butt?!"

"Hey!" Vince turned to see 'King Bob' now directing his yelling voice at the teen boy. "The _kids_ are with _me_."

Vince turned back to the teenaged boy, who was suddenly a lot more submissive than before.

"Sorry Robbie, I didn't know." He looked down at Vince shyly. "Sorry kid."

"Umm… that's okay." Vince replied, slowly turning back towards 'King' Bob.

"Running boy, crazy monkey boy: it surprises me to see you both here."

"Umm, yeah- we're here with Spinelli." T.J. replied.

"So umm… Robbie is it?" Vince asked somewhat bashfully to the former playground King.

"Yes." The older boy replied with an invisible air of self-importance, "The calling of Middle School labels waits for no kid."

"Riiight.." Vince replied. T.J. tried not to crack a smile. Despite his new 'middle school call', Bob still talked like a pretentious royal. "So is that your trainee or somethin'?"

Robbie looked up at the deeply progressed combat where Tommy was into the fisticuffs stage of his fight against Tyson Tyzack. Robbie's demeanour suddenly seemed to change without warning and the kingly façade of his vocal chords just seemed to melt away.

"Naw, not really. He's just a friend of mine from school. He's good at the fighting, and I'm… well, I'm good at the yelling. We found one of those little cards promoting the Seventh Heaven Society on the street one day, and found this place and thought 'Hey, why not'?" He continued with a contented smile, "After all, I've got all this time on my hands since I'm not the king of a playground anymore!"

* * *

Tommy ducked under a thunder-fast punch by Tyson, but countered back by wrapping his left arm around Tyson's back and pounding his stomach with his right hand. 

Tyson and Tommy separated; Tyson clutched his stomach, regaining his breath whilst looking out at the crowds. Nearest the ring on his left side was a group of teenage girls, none of whom looked like they were here to fight, simply to watch the male competitors 'in action'. Tyson knew this not only from their rather skimpy and wildly inappropriate attire, but also through the fact that he himself had invited every one of them here to the club.

Their giggling soprano speech resonated easily above the low-pitched din of the rest of the audience, but he noticed with a growl that their attention and giggling was not indeed focussed on _him_, the one who _showed them here_ in the first place, but on the dark-haired, sweaty, thirteen-year-old boy he was facing.

Tommy stood waiting for Tyson with hands at the ready- Tyson snarled and lunged at the male in a momentary fit of rage.

"Firestorm makes for Komodo Dragoon, but Dragoon's quicker than that. He moves out of the firing line- Firestorm slows down- he doesn't look too happy. Firestorm charges towards Komodo Dragoon again: OH! Firestorm _slaps_ his opponent in the face! But Komodo Dragoon isn't fazed, just a little surprised, as he steps away from his opponent… Firestorm just doesn't seem to be giving up the chase, and he looks _livid_!!! Firestorm charges toward Komodo like a bull at Elmo, deciding to go full-out with offence tactics and leave all defences behind… that may be a rash decision through beca- oh- Komodo dives from Firestorm's path! Firestorm's locomotion is too much for him to recover from! He's fallen into the ropes- it's a last second struggle to hold on… but no! He's fallen from the ring! Firestorm is outta' the ring which means that Komodo Dragoon is the winner of Round One!!"

"Yes! Good one Tommy boy!!! You've got it!" The ex-king Bob yelled to Tommy as the referee raised his hand in victory.

The audience cheered raucously for their winner: particularly the gang of girls, who screamed and giggled wildly. Tyson, who was picking himself up off the cold arena floor slowly, narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together when he heard them- the people _he_ had invited to this Society- cheering for and fawning over his adversary.

Tyson was sick of kids taking things that he had worked for. He bitterly stormed around the outside of the ring and back to his corner where Vitto stood.

"What was that all about?" Vitto asked, inquiring as to Tyson's shoddy fighting technique.

"_Nothing…_" Tyson said with more malice than he would have liked to have let slip. He immediately recanted- he couldn't lose Vitto's trust- not _now_- not now he was so very close to getting the thing he'd been working for for so very long…

He turned to look Vitto in the eye and forced a cheap, tacky, tawdry smirk onto his mouth. Vitto returned a glance of what Tyson assumed was scepticism.

"Settle down Tyzack." Vitto said in a hushed voice, noticing how Tyson's teeth were slowly chiselling into each other, "Save it for round three."

Tyson nodded somewhat overzealously, and Vitto moved into the ring, a strange resentful snarl resting on his face as he stepped forward to face his cousin.

* * *

_Ding! Ding! __Ding!_

"…And it's the Spin Doctor versus Diavolo Child here… already we see the Diavolo Child advancing without any reserves onto the Spin Doctor who's backing away…"

Nick pleaded somewhat nervously. "Hey come on now cuz', go easy here…"

"Don't you worry Nicky boy, I'll go easy…"

Nick Spinelli wasn't stupid, despite what his teachers, classmates and even family thought- he could remember the days back when 'little cousin Nicky' was put together with 'big cousin Vitto' and 'big cousin Joey' to 'play' during family reunions. This usually involved two-versus-one battles of Vitto and Joey's favourite professional wrestling game in which Nick would always inevitably be the 'one' while Vitto and Joey were the 'two'. 'Baby' cousin Ashley had always gotten to sit out on account of her age, and her being a girl… lucky chimp… but Nick, being the spunky young Spinelli boy he was, always finished up amongst all the roughest and tumbly-est of all the rough-and-tumble action. Nick knew first-hand what kind of horrific damage his older, more developed and extremely well built cousin could so to him.

"Don't play games with me cuz'- I'd like to leave here with my original bones, if that's alright wit' you."

Vitto Spinelli rolled his eyes as he continued forward. "It'll be as quick and painless as possible Nicky, I give you my word. Trust me," He motioned tactfully to the corner where Tyson stood outside the ring, "it's better me than him."

Nick eyed his older cousin suspiciously. "Why should I believe that? You love the chase and challenge too much just to let me off that easy."

"I know you too Nick," Vitto digressed, moving closer and closer, "you're a bundle of energy first off, but you get tired easily. You know I'm gonna' beat your ass: this way we get it over and done with quick, and you can still have all your crazy energy saved up for Round Three."

Nick made to reply distrustfully again but froze when he found he'd backed right into the ropes on the other side of the ring he'd started from.

He looked up at Vitto with a coy little grin. "He he…"

Vitto wrapped a beefy arm around his smaller cousin's back, sweeping his other arm under Nick's legs so his cousin was somewhat cradled in his muscular arms. Nick scrambled in his cousin's hold while Vitto held him over the edge of the ring. Vitto winked at Nick with a strangely deadpan face.

"Sorry 'cuz', but I have to make sure I win this."

Nick was suddenly dropped from Vitto's arms and he hit the floor outside the ring with a heavy smack. The audience reacted, and the announcer began his rant:

"The Spin Doctor has been displaced from the ring! Diavolo Child and Team Six are the winners of Round Two in this fast excuse for a battle! Well, I guess it is one way to get the job done quick… this means that Round Three will be the tag-team Round decider of which team goes through to the finals!!!"

* * *

Tyson shook his head free of negative thoughts as he walked into the ring. He knew he couldn't control himself when he was angry. He lost grip of his self-control and he started fighting erratically. For the sole sake of winning this thing, he needed to focus on the task. Tyson Tyzack wouldn't let some pretty boy get the best of him… 

Tommy entered into the ring again as well, having just had a conversation with Robbie and Nick about their team's strategy going into the next round. One thing he was to make sure about was, if Tyson went first, not to let him tag his partner in. If they could keep the older boy out of this, they were in with a shot…

_Ding! Ding! Ding!_

The last Round had begun, and both boys took immediately to defending themselves- this round was crucial, and neither of them were willing to take any chances.

"…It's Firestorm and Komodo Dragoon once again, and it looks like they're playing it safe with their defences… and who can blame them; the victory and the SHS title are so very close…"

Tommy edged forward towards Tyson, trying to anticipate the other boy's intentions. Tyson wasn't giving away anything- in fact, it looked as though he was purposely blocking any interception to his mentality whatsoever. As he edged closer to the other boy, Tommy decided to take his chances and throw a punch. He very quickly shot his fist through Tyson's guard and into the mid-region of his ribcage. But Tyson used the opportunity to strike his opponent while his guard was momentarily let down.

Tyson's right fist soared forward at Tommy's left cheek, the place his hands had just previously been protecting over. It connected with a snap, and Tommy's head went spinning to the side as he staggered back from the punch.

Tyson remained where he was keeping tightly to the balls of his feet. Tommy stepped back, shaking the white spots from his vision away. He swerved his neck around trying to shake off the pain he'd take in from his head lashing to the side so quickly.

Tommy again put his fists up in front of his face & torso and edged toward his adversary.

"Komodo Dragoon creeps toward Firestorm… these fighters are really boxing themselves in. It looks like they're both reluctant to make the first mo- wait: Komodo Dragoon for the kick! Whips out another one to Firestorm's calves— and a third knee-kick to Firestorm's leg! Firestorm moves out of the attack and Komodo Dragoon retreats to his own corner. It looks like he might be a little sore there…"

Tommy rubbed his neck sorely and winced. If Tyson hadn't already heard from the announcer, it would now be clearly obvious from his actions that he had hurt his neck. He just hoped Tyson wasn't smart enough to take advantage of that fact. But it wasn't intelligence that Komodo Dragoon had to worry about. After all, Tyson wasn't really seen at school very often. It was Tyson's malevolency he should have been more wary of- his opponent's years of experience in emotional manipulation had taught him how to recognise another's weakness, and how to exploit that weakness.

"…And Firestorm comes after Komodo Dragoon- Dragoon's caught off-guard by the sudden advancement, and stumbles back. He's up against the ropes- Firestorm has him against the mostly non-existent wall- things don't look pretty for Komodo Dragoon. But the question now is what move is Firestorm gonna' make…?"

The blonde-haired boy reached out to grab Tommy, when Tommy tried a last ditch effort to escape the oncoming attack by sending a side kick to Tyson's stomach region.

Unfortunately for poor Tommy, this backfired horribly. Tyson caught his leg as it flew at him and held it up in the air. He then pulled hard on Tommy's leg, forcing him to fall to the ground. Tyson grabbed his other leg and pulled them both into the air, so that Tommy hung upside-down in his grasp.

Tommy looked up at Tyson who looked back at him with a crooked, distant leer.

Tommy whimpered. '_This can't be good…'_

Tyson jumped forward and landed in the sitting position, full-force on Tommy's neck and upper chest.

"It's a _pile driver_ from Firestorm!! He's practically driven Komodo into the ground! Man, that HAS TA' hurt!!!"

And didn't Tommy know it. He yelled out in pain- Tyson was now sitting backwards on his chest and it was making his neck sting furiously.

Tommy heard the umpire begin to count him out. Through spotty, blurred vision he looked up beside him to where Nick Spinelli stood hanging over the edge of the ropes with his arm outstretched. Tommy smiled in relief and tagged his partner's hand. The weight off his neck was hastily relieved as Tyson was bowled over by Nick diving into the ring. Tommy scrambled out, touching his neck tenderly.

The Italian boy with auburn hair looked to Tyson with a cheekily dashing beam as he spoke:

"The doctor is _in_!!!"

The announcer acknowledged Nick's entrance and its subsequent effects, "Aaaand The Spin Doctor is tagged in- hello, it looks like he might have a few lady friends in the audience…"

Indeed, when Nick had bounced into the ring, a few catcalls and wolf whistles had circulated through some of the female spectators in the audience. Nick looked pretty satisfied with himself, however Tyson looked a little less than impressed. In fact, it looked as through his focus had been shot through to China.

"…Firestorm and The Spin Doctor come closer together- the Spin Doctor takes a swing and just misses his opponent- Firestorm takes another swing and misses his enemy entirely: looks like his aim is a little off there…"

From the audience another female cry was heard: "We love you Spin Doctor!!!"

Another called: "You can fill my prescription any time!"

Nick laughed out loud at the teasing comment, and Tyson took a big swing at his face.

"And Firestorm takes another _big _shot- Spin Doctor ducks easily… Firestorm appears to be getting sloppy."

The two fighters came together in a scrum- arms outstretched pushing each other in an attempt to push the other backwards. Nick was clearly weakening- he looked thoroughly exhausted. Tyson had almost overcome him, when a yell in synchronisation from a large group of girls in the audience caught his attention…

"_Team Four rules!_!!"

Tyson's teeth ground together- suddenly it seemed the auburn-haired kid was much more overpowering than him: pushing him backwards, smirking at him with his pathetically mischievous pretty boy smile…

"…The two locked in a grudge mat- WHAT IN THE EARTH WAS THAT?! It seems Firestorm has just jumped forward and BITTEN The Spin Doctor on the nose! No fooling _bitten_!!!"

Blood splattered in thick drops from the toothy incisions on Nick's nasal fields and onto the hard battle-floor below.

"YOU PSYCHO!!!!!" He yelped to Tyson, but the other boy didn't hear him… Tyson spat a gob of thick gunky red liquid onto the ringfloor, before pulling Nick forward again and biting down on the already blood swamped nose.

"Firestorm bites a chunk of his adversary's nose _again_! Ladies and gentlemen, I've never seen anything like this before… I'm pretty sure it's not against the rules though, so I guess the Spin Doctor just has to…err…_smell the roses_…"

Nick stumbled rearward in suffering and shock, clutching his nose with his two hands. Revolted screams from young girls in the crowd could be heard over the general din of outraged cries and encouraged whoops. Tyson grinned as he barged forward after The Spin Doctor. He delivered a square punch in the boy's unguarded stomach; Nick bent over, and Tyson forced the boy to the ground.

"The Spin Doctor is on the floor- Firestorm has him pinned down- the umpire's in- he's counting: one… two… three… The Spin Doctor's out!!! It's all over folks!! Firestorm is the Round Three winner! Team Four is out of the tourney and Team Six will go on to compete in the final match!!!!!"

The crowd seemed somewhat conflicted as a strange hybrid of dissentious cries and cheering applause resonated the room. Tyson stood up and looked down at Nick. A few trickles of blood seeped between Nick's fingers as he held them tightly over his blood-stained nose. Tyson sneered in a terrifyingly pitiless way.

"Not so pretty now huh? You Spinellis…always take what isn't yours…"

* * *

Amongst the outraged portion of the crowd was ex-King Bob, who at the moment still sounded much like a majestic douche. 

"WHAT??? This is a royal OUTRAGE!!! That kid is an insolent cheater!! CHEATER I SAY! He should be thrown in the galleys!! Tied to the dodgeball wall!! We want vengeance!!! VENGEANCE I say!!!"

Tommy, despite his own discontent at the way the match was won, closed his eyes in embarrassment. "Not you and this 'king' thing again… get over it man, it was all the way back last year!!! Come on Robbie, let's go scrape Nick off the ring floor…"

* * *

Tyson moved outside the ring to where Vitto was waiting for him with an unwelcoming snarl on his mouth. 

"What was…_that_?"

Tyson noticed the nasty, twisted snarl on Vitto's face and elaborated with a contented, toothy, mock-up grin.

"Oh hey thrasher, sorry I didn't let you have any of the action… I guess I got into the swing of it."

Tyson went to walk past, when Vitto placed a gripped hand on Tyson's arm and spun him around. Tyson looked down at his arm cringingly- Vitto had been a bit firmer in his grasp than Tyson assumed he meant to be.

"We _don't_ win like…_that_… biting someone's face is dirty play. We _don't_ attack anyone like that. It's just…"

Vitto looked into the ring where his cousin was being helped up by his teammate and their friend. Vitto exhaled, and clenched his fists an almost unnoticeably small amount.

"… it's just not how we want to win the game, you know???"

"Yeah… sure dude…" Tyson replied slowly, with a slight confusion layered in his face, "no more dirty plays. I got it thrasher…"

Tyson then walked off to wash his blood-infected mouth, and Vitto watched after him: closely…

* * *

**A/N: **He, yeah, so I was pretty much taking a shot at the whole Mike Tyson 'Bite Fight' controversy, except obviously it was a different body part :D. Anyways, ooh! The story's finally almost getting nearish to the end somewhat sort of ish!!! (YES! I am the QUEEN of non-commitment of fan fiction!) I'd really appreciate any reviews you've got- they make me all feel loved and all o' that stuffs… and they make me write the stories faster. See how the round of benefits works for everyone and anyone? Yeah, of course you do, you're smart people. And lovely, and nice and brilliant and soooooo very attractive… $$waggles eyes at ya'll suggestively$… 


	31. The Pressing Issue

**A/N: **Goofy moNkey child opens up armed with a new chapter of her story. Goofy moNkey child searches for her story amongst the Recess section, finally finding it on the second page. Goofy moNkey child checks 'updated' date. Goofy moNkey child reads 01-02-07.

Goofy moNkey child reads the 'updated' date again. Goofy moNkey child reads 01-02-07.

Goofy moNkey child looks away from the screen, spins around on her swivelly computer chair, then looks back at the 'updated' date one more time. Goofy moNkey child reads 01-02-07.

Goofy moNkey child: Oh my beep.

Goofy moNkey child begins spewing out excuse upon excuse of why she hasn't updated in over a year, including starting university, moving house twice, and just being too dang busy (cough lazy cough).

In between desperate, insane gibberish, goofy moNkey child sporadically thanks Lilerin91, Lanekimfan, 0-Royal-T-0, Paris Marriott, Madame Fist, Ironysabitch (goofy moNkey lervs youse all too ;D) for reviewing.

Goofy moNkey child stops talking, then crumples on the floor in a pathetic mess, mumbling incoherent apologies for not updating in, like, ages.

Goofy moNkey child's hand reaches up feebly from the ground to the keyboard to post the new chapter, then slumps back to the ground where she lies, rocking on her side, psychotically humming the Recess theme music.

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
By goofy monkey child**

**  
Chapter thirty-one: The Pressing Issue**

Spinelli's knees bobbed up and down as she sat on one of two plastic chairs outside one corner of the ring. Jason sat next to her, staring over the other side of the ring, where their next opponents sat. The glaring arena lights remained fixed on the ring floor, where a couple of weedy-looking stagehands currently wiped over the blood-dripped floor with squares of cheap paper towels. Spinelli felt oddly safe sitting in the darkness and shadows beside the ring next to Jason Tyzack. She was beginning to quite enjoy his company, not just as a friend but almost like a relative: a cool cousin, or an older brother… she couldn't quite figure out why Vitto would have broken off their friendship, when Jason was clearly a much better person than Tyson.

"So what are you thinking?"

Spinelli jumped when she heard Jason's voice. "Huh?"

Jason motioned his head to the dark shadows on the other side of the ring. "You reckon we can take 'em?"

Spinelli squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The figures became lighter gradually, and she could see the teenaged boy and girl sitting on plastic chairs as they were, talking to each other and laughing. The girl looked about fifteen; her shaggy auburn hair swung about her back as she laughed, and her fringe was pulled back from her face by only a shiny, golden facemask perched on her forehead. She had a very nice smile—laughing looked like a very natural thing for her to do, like amusement was her element.

The boy next to her looked younger, maybe twelve, with a skinny build and auburn hair also pushed back by a face mask, although his looked like it was made of white feather down. Spinelli, however, fixed her gaze on his green eyes… she had seen them before—a week ago, on a day she wasn't very proud of… the day that her and the boys had gotten into the fight, and the night she had gone to Tyson's house, she had fought a boy with a blindfold on—the boy with the kind and honest green eyes. She unpleasantly remembered being rather rude to him as he had offered her a hand, and she slumped into her chair, clutching her stomach, beginning to feel rather unsafe again…

Jason narrowed his eyes. "You've gone very quiet. You nervous?"

Spinelli looked down at her knees and sighed through her teeth. "I think I'm just worried Jase. You know, about Tyson, and about Vitto. And…" There was a falter in her voice. She turned and looked him in the eye. "Jason, do you ever… do you ever feel like you're not, you know… _good_? I mean, morally… do you ever feel like you were _meant_ to be a bad influence, like you'll never be one of…you know, one of the good guys…?"

Jason's freckles grouped together as he gave her a soft smile. "The fact you're worried about it means your conscience is in good working order. You know, everyone does bad things—everyone's greedy or manipulative or insensitive sometimes, but realising what you've done and wanting to make up for it, repenting, I reckon that's what being a good guy's about. I mean, it helps if you realise something's bad _before_ you do it, but if not, there's always a way to redeem yourself. Thing is, with bad guys, they know what they're doing isn't right, and they don't care. Even if they hurt people." He gave a hard stare into the depths of the buzzing crowd, like he was looking for someone in particular. "Those guys just don't think about others. They just don't _think_."

Spinelli looked out into the crowd as well. "I think other good guys can help you stay a good guy as well. So they can remind you to think."

She stood from her chair and began stretching her legs and arms. Jason looked up at her, gave a thoughtful smirk, and began doing the same.

* * *

Crunchy distorted guitars played next to an echoing, hollow drum-kit in a glam rock classic that boomed over the speakers. 

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIn the right corner, please welcome to the ring Team Seventeen: _Angelo Alatoooooooooooo,_ and _Medeeeeeeeeaaaaa_!"

In the opposite corner of the ring to Spinelli and Jason, the boy and girl raised their arms to the crowd, grins perched on their faces as they acknowledged the crowd. In the spotlight of the ring, Spinelli could now see their scruffy auburn hair and fair green eyes harmonised quite perfectly--it was clear the two were related

The Team Seventeen theme song pounded through the stereo speakers placed throughout the arena. Quickly though, the undeniable sounds of eighties rock faded out…

"And in the other corner, please welcome Team Seven: _La Nina Diabloooooooooo_, and_ Ceeeeeeeeeeeerberus_!"

…and the tidy, iconic sounds of noughties power rock came fading in. The audience's thrilled whistling and applauding mixed rather suitably within the wall-of-guitars, thunder drums, and screaming vocals of Team Seven's theme song 'Hell'.

Spinelli grinned at the cheering crowd, at the same time closing her eyes and listening to the lyrics.

"_And hell is where you'll be  
Fighting for the free  
Swingin' dames  
And taking names  
You'll make a fool of me.  
In red and black we came  
To play these kiddie games  
But no one's free  
In hell you'll see  
We're going down in flames…_"

The music excerpt began to fade quickly and Spinelli looked up to Jason. "Was that song by 'Dog's Pyjamas'?"

Jason smiled. "Yup."

Spinelli's eyes tended upwards, towards the bright white lights.

"_Dog's_ Pyjamas…. Cerberus was a _dog_…the dog from _Hell_, and diablo means devil… also from _hell_…" She stared at the lights. "It all kinda' fits together, huh?"

Jason looked down at Spinelli with a smile, not quite knowing what she meant, but knowing her thoughts were far from where they stood. "I guess so, kiddo."

* * *

_ Ding, ding, ding!_

"It's Angelo Alato versus La Nina Diablo in the ring first up: the Winged Angel versus The Girl Devil, heaven versus hell, right here in our humble little arena ladies and gents—will good triumph over evil? Or will the Winged Angel be consumed by the dark side…?"

Spinelli winced as the commentator rambled. She did not particularly appreciate being referred to as 'evil', and made a mental note to kick the commentator's butt accordingly after the match.

The boy in the other corner pulled down his feather mask over his eyes and began pacing around the outskirts of the ring, not moving his head from Spinelli's direction. Spinelli watched him, moving in the opposite direction.

"Angelo Alato takin' it easy… La Nina Diablo seeming a bit on edge. These guys will have to play it careful if they wanna' make it through to the Final tomorrow night."

The boy strafed forward; Spinelli kept her eyes on where his feet lay, avoided looking at his eyes. Once the boy's feet were half a metre away, Spinelli felt his hands clamping around her upper arms, and she whirled around, freeing herself from his hold. He stepped back, raising his fists to guard himself again, and Spinelli turned back to him, raising her own fists but feeling rather useless.

"La Nina Diablo gets free of the opening hold, but chooses not to go for the counter-attack… and both fighters look a little defensive, standin' there like this is some sorta' tea party… come on guys!"

Impatient yells began filtering through the crowd. Spinelli edged forward and sent a quick jab with her left to the boy's guarding fists, simply to look busy. It was useless—she knew that before she'd thrown it. Her left was a dud, and all that eventuated was a twang of pain in her knuckles from connecting with his wrist bone.

Spinelli backed a metre or two away with fists raised to chin-height, wandering with cautiously placed steps and biting her lip like she was concentrating rather hard, or perhaps simply worried.

The boy edged toward her, keeping his own hands at the ready for defence. "Ya'll look a little nervous or somethin'."

Spinelli stuck rooted to her position, deciding not to give up ground. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh." He edged further, smiling. "And I know you've fought bigger guys 'n me. You tryin' to lull me into a false sense of security or somethin'?"

Spinelli edged back a step. "I guess, something like that…" The two now stood at jabbing range. Spinelli could see the licks of white feathers on the boy's mask flickering and resting from the updraft of his breath. She steadied her feet on the floor. "Uhh… hey man, you know… I'm sorry I snapped at you before."

"Before?" He had an intriguing grin set across his face which reminded her somewhat of T.J., though without the mischief in the eyes. She felt her mind begin to pull itself together, felt her stomach unknot, felt slightly safer.

"Yeah, uhh… last week I fought you, you know, during the blindfolded game? Well, that was kind of a tough day for me and… heck, I know that's no excuse, but I think I yelled at you when you were just tryin' to be polite. So uhh… I'm sorry 'bout that."

The boy cocked his head. "Thank ya'll very much… it's downright thoughtful of you to say such a thing."

Spinelli felt a grin pull on her lips, which in turn seemed to relax her whole body.

"Right then, now we got the pleasantries outta' the way, you better get ready to be rocked by La Nina Diablo!" Spinelli raised her hands and let the grin come to the surface of her mouth.

"We'll see," replied the boy, raising his hands and laughing.

"Right, finally!" the commentator said, "Back to the action: La Nina Diablo advances, goes for a left hook, but Angelo Alato cuts into the open area of her face with a jab, then a head butt to the left temple—hey people: first head butt of the night! Give it up!"

Spinelli stumbled back from the boy, wincing as she rubbed her palm against her temple. That head butt had given her a major headache, and the sudden uproar from the crowd wasn't making it better. On the upside, the head butt had caused some serious problems for Angelo Alato, who was struggling to get his mask, now bent and indented onto his nose, off his face.

She took the opportunity and ran up behind him. In one swift move Spinelli grabbed the boy's arm and swung him in circles around her—his auburn hair flickered above his mask in the breeze of motion—Spinelli grinned and then let him go, his inertia sending him flying to the front of the ring. He swung into the elastic ropes, the weight and force of his body stretching them until he was leaning at a neat 70-degree angle over the crowd. Various teenagers standing in the front rows gawked with goofy grins, waiting to see if the ropes would in fact snap. One girl screamed excitedly and reached out to touch the sweaty fighter's chest. But before her hand could reach him, Angelo Alato was flung back into the ring, propelled by the force of the rubber ropes. He skated toward the other side of the ring, twisting his body around only in time to see Spinelli smirk, wink, and stick her arm out like a concrete clothesline.

His forehead rammed into her forearm like a bowling ball into a swinging steel bar, his torso still heading forwards at speed, sending his body to compensate between the two and slap, back-down, on the floor.

The crowd whooped and winced, and Angelo Alato rolled on the floor with a grimace.

"A human slingshot and a clothesline melded together into a little 'ol house of pain by La Nina Diablo! Almost a reversal of her cannonball clothesline move against Tyrant-osaurus Rex: dang, this little chick's pullin' some sweet moves off the ropes tonight! Angelo Alato's gonna' have his hands full with this one."

"That's for sure." The boy chuckled as he got to his feet, yanking the dented mask from around his nose and readjusting it over his face so the eyeholes revealed his green eyes. La Nina Diablo sent him a smirk from across the ring and flicked the chaotic dark hair from her eyes, and for a moment she reminded him of a wild mare, in fact, a lot like the black filly he'd caught and tamed back home on the farm. Cheeky young thing she was, always bucking him off when she knew he wasn't sitting properly in his saddle. But one thing he'd learned from the horse was that she lacked a sense of cation, and always ended up going back to the same old tricks. It was just a matter of learning her moves, the way she leant, and when she was likely to throw him off, and then working away at those things until she was tame enough to control. He stared at the girl, thinking back to when he'd last seen her fighting, what moves she favoured…

"Angelo Alato dashes toward La Nina Diablo in a sudden outbreak of action, grabs her by the waist, and reefs her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Could be getting ready for a fireman's carry slam, or a takeover…"

Spinelli didn't need the commentator's warning to know what moves to expect—with one arm and one leg draped over Angelo Alato's shoulders she clung on tightly with both of them, hoping to hang on and pull him down with her should he try to throw her off.

He walked toward the corner ropes—Spinelli's mind shot to Killer Kalhoon and his Blue Bay Plunge move, where he would wrangle an opponent over his shoulder, climb up a ladder, then flip forward onto the floor, leaving his opponent to land back-down and Kalhoon's shoulders to drive into their stomach. Only the Mad Masher could counter that move, and that was by wriggling away and clinging to the ropes…

"Angelo Alato heading for the ropes… not sure what he's planning, but he'd better watch out or—or _that_ might happen! La Nina Diablo makes a dive for the ropes with her free hand! Angelo Alato struggles to keep a hold of her, but she gets free, clambering for the ropes—I think we all know what's coming next…"

Spinelli clutched at the turnbuckles in the corner of the ring and kicked her foot out behind her. She felt it connect with skin and an 'oof!' and she spun around, seeing Angelo Alato falling to his back on the floor. He'd gone down a lot more easily than she'd expected, but perhaps she simply didn't know her own strength. She wasted no time in hoisting herself up the ropes until she stood on the top line. The crowd rose in volume.

"Angelo Alato still on the floor, La Nina Diablo standing atop the ropes like a hawk waiting to swoop…"

Spinelli hooked her thumbs together and waved her fingers. She grinned out at the crowd, who began to chant, "Flying Press, Flying Press!"

She flapped her fingers and separated her hands, then slapped them together where they flapped no more. She briefly looked down at Angelo Alato, who sat on the ground before her, fiddling with the mask which had again slipped down to conceal his eyes.

"FLYING PRESS!!!" Spinelli leapt into the air with her arms spread, and the crowd cheered. Spinelli looked down at her opponent, expecting to see the same slowly dawning expression on this boy's face as she had on Eric's just before she flying pressed his butt off, but she didn't. In the few moments she sailed through the air, she saw him lift the mask off his kind green eyes, wink, smirk, and roll out of the way.

"Aw, sh--" was all she got out before she made a skin-slapping, rib-cracking, spine-jolting belly flop flat on the hard ring floor.

The crowd groaned, cheered, laughed and cringed. Spinelli heard herself make a small whining noise. Her whole front half felt like it was on fire. Her back half felt shattered. Something heavy pressed onto her back and pulled her arm behind her, and she groaned, feeling rather stupid.

"Angelo Alato holds La Nina Diablo in pin position after pulling off an amazing fake-out! The ref's in, and one… two… three… she's outta' there! La Nina Diablo's out for the count! Angelo Alato is the Round One winner!"

Spinelli heard the crowd cheer for their winner and sighed. She rolled over gently onto her back and moaned, looking up at the boy who smiled at the crowd. When the noise died down he looked over at her, cocked his head and stuck out his hand.

"Need a hand?"

Spinelli stared at his outstretched hand, feeling that sick sense of déjà vu crawl upon her. She sure felt angry that the boy had beaten her, just like last time, even using her own attacks against her. She could feel that same burning in her stomach that she felt every time she got embarrassed, or didn't get her way, or got told things she didn't want to hear, and for a moment she could see herself slapping away his gesture, standing up, and pushing him to the ground.

But somehow the last round had reinforced the notion of not making the same mistake twice.

She reached out and grabbed his hand. The boy smiled, even looked a little relieved.

"Shoot, for a moment there I thought you was gonna' brush me off again!"

Spinelli smiled sheepishly as she stood up, rubbing her back sorely. "Thanks," she said, watching as Angelo Alato pulled his mask off of his face. He really did have some of the friendliest eyes she'd ever seen, like meadows of dark green grass.

"You know, you're a real nice guy," she said. The boy paused and looked at her contemplatively, grinning more genuinely than ever.

"Why, thank you again madam!" Spinelli held in a grin at the way he spoke, like a Southern gentleman. "I think you're a very good person too, truly. You have a good night now, ya' hear?"

The boy headed out toward his corner of the ring, and Spinelli sighed with relief, thinking to herself as she watched him high-five his sister,_ 'A good person? Well that's a big step up from not thinking…'_

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**A/N:** Goofy moNkey child wishes you to review, should you feel the need. Or even if you don't. Next chap soon!!! (Sooner than this, at very least…) 


	32. Playing The Cool

**A/N: **Don't you just bathe in the enjoyment of less-than-two-month updates? It doesn't happen all that often these days, at least not for me, so everyone: bathe while you can. That's right, strip down and get in the bath of enjoyment. 0.o…

A big playful bath splash goes out to NothingButTrouble, esther3193, obsessed-fic-fan2, lilerin91, and Ironysabitch for reviewing. You guys rock my foxy socks off. ($$ Gets into the bath, now that said foxy socks have been rocked off. $$)

There's only a few more chapters to go now. How exciting! Anyway, let's get straight into the next one, because right now it's getting kinda' crowded in the bath. And my toes are getting wrinkly.

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl  
By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter thirty-two: Playing The Cool **

"Cerberus starts off the round with a flying mid-kick—Medea narrowly bounds out of the way and somersaults across the ring like an acrobat-"

The teenaged girl flipped right to the opposite edge of the ring she started from and barrelled straight into the ropes.

"-oooor some sort of clown."

"Ack!" The girl chuckled as she untangled her legs from the elastic and bounded bouncily back toward her opponent. "Get outta' my way, ropes. Don't you know who I am?"

Jason stood opposite her, staring blankly at the goofy grin on her face. "You really are a clown."

"You sure are observant," said the girl. "I'm a rodeo clown."

Jason cocked his head. He stepped back, eyeing her carefully. She was his height, with an athletic build and strong-looking legs. The shiny mask she wore covered her face down to her mouth, which seemed plastered in a perpetual comic grin. He'd never seen her at the Seventh Heaven Society before. He was sure he would have noticed her.

"What's with the mask?" he asked.

She smiled, flicking her auburn hair from the golden mask. Jason could feel the insides of his fists getting clammy. "This here is a part of my face. I was involved in a horrific fiery candy wrapper explosion, and I'll mind you not to bring it up."

Jason rolled his eyes. A comedian. He shot forward, leading with his elbow, and belted her in the cheek. Medea's head clipped back, and she swung back at him from the recoil.

Jason ducked under Medea's swooping counter-punch and continued, "So your name… is that Medea from Jason and the Argonauts… like in Greek mythology?"

"Why yessir, it is." The girl bounced back from Jason. "Ya'll into mythology stuff too, Cerberus?"

"Uhh… yes, I am." He dodged to the left, away from a cross punch. "You know, it's funny you should say that-" he slipped down to the right, "-your fighting name is Medea," he ducked, "and my real name is Jason." He jumped as Medea swept a foot underneath him—not fast enough though, as the spoon sweep caught his ankles and toppled him forward.

He coughed into the hard floor. "Jason and Medea?"

Jason lifted his head off the floor in time to see the girl bouncing to the ringside, literally leaping onto the ropes, then backflipping through the air toward him…

"Medea bounds from the ropes and lands a stomach-pounding press onto Cerberus' torso, breaking up the stretch of conversation… yeesh, what's with all the talking tonight?"

Jason gasped for air as the girl stood up off of him. He rolled over and pulled his feet under himself to get to a staggering stand. He was still bent over, clutching his wounded stomach, when he saw the girl run up from beside him.

Her leg furthest away from him leapt into the air, then the leg in front of him kicked up—if she had been aiming to knee him in the face she had missed, because both legs were now above his head. Then the first leg came back toward the ground, and just as he was thinking gravity should have pulled her other leg down by now, Jason was smacked in the back of the head.

"Medea with an reverse scissor-kick sends Cerberus sprawling again! If things keep going this way Team Seventeen will be well on their way to the finals!"

Jason groaned as he rubbed his head.

"Jason! What in the hang are you doin'?"

Spinelli stood by the ringside, hanging over the ropes with an impatient glare. "You forgotten that we need to win this round to not get eliminated?" Spinelli winced. "We need to make the finals, remember? To stop _them_ from winning?"

Jason crawled toward her. "Right. Sorry kiddo, I err… got distracted." He got to his feet. "Don't worry, I'll take care of-"

Spinelli pointed behind him. "Jase, look out!"

Jason's head whipped around as Medea came bounding over to tackle him. Without turning his body away from Spinelli he crouched down, then when Medea came barrelling into his back he bent over further and grabbed behind himself, pulling Medea up his back until she was curled around his shoulders like a fox shawl.

"Whoa… nice doggy…" He heard her say as he moved to the middle of the ring. Her auburn hair dangled over his shoulder and tickled his cheek. It smelt like hay and apples, he noted with a small grin.

"Medea, gotten herself into a pretty bad position—if Cerberus plays this rights it could all be over-"

Jason turned his head to the left, where Medea's arms and head draped over his broad shoulders. From this close he could see her eyes through that golden mask—green, warm, friendly.

"What's your name?" he asked. The crowd around them was amping up, and Jason had to strain to hear her answer.

"You sure pick inappropriate times to ask stupid questions." She raised an eyebrow, and Jason smirked. "It's Thalia."

"Thalia," he repeated, beginning to grin. "It's nice to meet you."

Jason jumped into the air and leant back, letting gravity drive the girl between the floor and his shoulders.

"Cerberus with a huge suplex, grinds Medea into the ground and pins her with a cradle manoeuvre. The ref's standing by, this might be it: one—no wait, she kicks out! But Cerberus is back with another pin—one… two… three! Second time's a charm—it's over! Cerberus defeats Medea and snatches the secure spot in the finals from Team Seventeen! Now both teams will compete in Round Three to determine who'll progress through. This is the last match of the night ladies and gents, so you don't wanna' miss this one!"

* * *

"You want me to start this round?" Spinelli leant over the ropes as Jason came toward her. His face was a deep shade of pink, and she wasn't sure if that meant he was exhausted or not, considering the huge grin that kept peeking over his mouth.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind starting." He glanced back across the ring and smiled again.

"What's with the grin? You know her or something?"

"Huh? Oh, well… no. I'm… getting to know her." He looked back at Spinelli. Don't worry, I'll tag you in before the end of the match. Can't keep all the fun to myself, can I?"

Spinelli shrugged. "Alright. Just keep it focussed this time, okay?"

"Will do." Jason smirked at her. "Who'd have thought we'd see the day that _you_ would lecture other people about staying focussed?"

"Tch, that's for sure." Spinelli looked down into the darkness of the crowd. "If only Vince and Teej could hear me now, huh?"

* * *

Down in amongst the slowly quietening crowd, T.J. watched as the third round began, whilst shielding himself from being elbowed in the face by a fellow audience member. "Yeesh, Jason and the girl he's fighting sure like to talk a lot." 

"Yeah," said Vince. "She looks nice though."

T.J. shrugged. "I guess so. I just hope Jason keeps his head in the game."

Vince watched as Jason struck Medea with a front kick. "I think Jason kinda' likes her."

T.J. stumbled to the right as an older boy in the crowd shoved into his shoulder. "Well, he's a nice guy, and she's an apparently-nice girl. Why shouldn't they be friends?"  
"Naw, I mean… you know, like, _like_ like."

T.J. looked to Vince. "_Like_ like? What makes you think that?"

"I dunno'. Just the way he's talking to her, smiling-"

"So he smiles at her and suddenly he _like_ likes her? Vince, that's crazy!" T.J. dodged the arm of an over-enthusiastic spectator as it swung into the air with an accompanying '_Kick his ass, Medea!'_.

"Look Vince, Jason's a cool guy. A real cool guy for a teenager, even. He can't go around _like_ liking every halfway nice girl he meets, it's just… not cool!"

Vince looked down at T.J., who grunted as the spectator's arm hit his head on the way back down. "Jason shouldn't really care what other people think if he _like_ likes a cool girl. Cool girls are kinda' hard to come by."

"…Really?"

"Well, that's what my brother says. He says a lot of girls are too selfish or mean or stupid to even consider dating. That's why if you find someone who's got integrity or guts or brains, you should consider yourself pretty lucky."

T.J. folded his arms, looking up at the ring, his eyes occasionally flicking to the shadows of the ringside. "Does she _like_ like him?"

"Who?"

"What do you mean who? This girl. Jason."

"Oh right, right. Well, you can tell she likes him, but I don't know if she _like_ likes him. Girls are harder for me to figure out. Especially the tough ones."

T.J. looked down at the dirty floor, where burnt cigarette butts and cola cans were crushed under the shuffling feet of teenage sneakers and boots. "Where's that leave Jason then?"

"Well… nowhere yet. I don't think he even knows he _like_ likes her."

"Now that's just crazy, Vince. How can you _like_ like someone and not know it?"

"You know, I'm not sure. I've never _like_ liked anyone, really… so you know, I wouldn't know as well as… other people."

T.J. staggered forward as the increasingly mosh-like crowd pushed in around him. "Well that's just great for Jason, isn't it? He doesn't know that he _like_ likes a girl who may or may not_ like_ like him. What in the hang is he supposed to do about any of it?!?" The older boy beside T.J. bumped into his shoulder again, and T.J. turned around and with a frustrated roar shoved the boy back into the crowd.

The boy fell back against the people behind him, then stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off. He stood at least a foot taller than T.J., and T.J. backed against Vince with a heavy swallow, wishing very much that Team Seven's match would end right now so that the coolest girl he knew could come to protect him…

The older boy chuckled and with a raised eyebrow looked down at T.J.

"Whoa, take a chill pill little man. Yeesh!"

The older boy turned back to watch the fight, and T.J.'s legs crumpled with relief.

Vince put a hand on his friend's back. "Man Teej, settle down. It was just a theory."

Vince turned back to the ring and watched as the girl hook-kneed Jason. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see T.J. fiddling with his cap.

"I think he should just wait until the right time," said Vince. "Jason, I mean. I think he should just wait until he knows how he feels for sure. Just enjoy the girl's company. No use rushing anything. They're still young."

T.J. glanced up at Vince, and then looked out at the ring, where Jason struck the girl a jumping roundhouse kick and she fell to the ground. T.J. let go of his cap.

"Vince, how do you know all this stuff?"

Vince yawned, watching Jason drag Medea across the ring by the foot. "You learn a whole lot of stuff when you just watch the people you hang around with…"

* * *

Spinelli gripped the top rope with one hand and outstretched the other as Jason dragged the teenage girl toward her edge of the ring. 

"Do your stuff, Diablo!" said Jason, dropping Medea's leg and slapping Spinelli's hand.

Spinelli ran to the outside corner of the ring and climbed up the ropes. When she stood mounted on the top ropes, she looked down at Medea, who laid on the ring floor, groaning and rubbing her stomach. "Whew doggie, I feel like I've been back-kicked by a bronco."

Spinelli could hear the crowd stepping up. She looked back at Jason, now outside the ring. "A bronco?"

Jason shrugged. "Hey, you've got your killer uppercut—I've got my jumping roundhouse."

Spinelli heard the commentator's voice, "La Nina Diablo is tagged into the round, and straight for the ropes, it looks like she could be setting up for another Flying Press…"

She looked back down at Medea on the floor. The crowd around began to form collective chants of 'Flying Press! Flying Press!' and Spinelli looked around for a moment, compelled by the power of the crowd.

"This is too important for me to screw up again…" She shook her head and pointed to Medea. "You ain't goin' anywhere this time!"

Spinelli leapt from the ropes, and the crowd hushed for a small moment. Medea moved to roll out of the way, just like Angelo Alato had in the first round, but instead of Spinelli splattering herself on the floor in a big mess of Flying Press soup, she landed on her feet, running.

"Aww shoot!" said Medea, stopping dead in her roll across the floor and stumbling to her feet to defend herself.

But before Medea could get her knees off the floor, Spinelli leapt to tackle Medea to the ground.

"La Nina Diablo pounces on Medea like a panther—Medea struggles but she's trapped in a Victory Roll Pin… the ref's standing by for the shoulders to go down—this might be it folks… Medea reaching for the side ropes—Angelo Alato with a hand stretched out waiting for the tag in… La Nina Diablo struggles to keep Medea held down, I think Angelo Alato's just out of reach though—oh and the ref is in! Medea's shoulders are down, and it's one… it's two… and it's three! It's all over! Medea's down and La Nina Diablo wins Round Three by pinfall! Team Seventeen is out of contention for the SHS title but Team Seven will head on to face Team Six in the Finals tomorrow night!"

Spinelli shook hands with Medea and Angelo Alato, then ran over to her side of the ring and vaulted over the ropes.

"Jase, we won! We totally won!"

"I know." Jason slapped Spinelli on the back with a big smile. "You did great tonight!"

"Yeah?" Spinelli laughed happily. "Same to you, dog-man! Ha ha, I can't believe we beat all those teams! And we only lost one round! You know, we might actually have a shot tomorrow!"

Jason looked around the dispersing crowd. "Hey now, let's not get ahead of ourse-"

"You guys!"

Jason and Spinelli looked down to see T.J. and Vince climbing up onto the waiting area where they stood.

"You guys are through!"

"You were so good-"

"Jase, you kicked butt out there-"

"You whomped those guys, Spin!"

Spinelli grinned and rubbed her neck. "Thanks guys."

Jason looked at the shuffling crowds of kids, squinting as though searching for a specific piece of rubbish on the floor. "Maybe they left…"

The commentator's voice rang over the speakers. "Right guys, that was the last match of the night, so have a safe trip home, and remember nine o'clock tomorrow night it's the Finals fight! Be here or be… uhh… well, just be here or else! Hey… what're you--"

Spinelli looked over to the announcer's table and saw the commentator laughing nervously, then pushing the microphone in his hands eagerly to a kid in the crowd. Someone stood up onto the table and tapped the microphone with their fingers. Most kids in the crowd began to turn their attention back to the announcer's table, while others yelped and grunted indignantly as one kid pushed past them, weaving quickly through the crowd toward the table.

"Hi, uhh… if I could have your attention for just a second," Spinelli slowly turned her head back to the table, already knowing with a sinking sense of unease that the gravelly voice belonged to Vitto. The audience quieted and looked at Vitto curiously.

"For those of you who uhh… who don't know me, I'm Vitto Spinelli, and I own the Seventh Heaven Society."

Some kids in the crowd clapped slowly, others looked around, wondering what sort of reaction they were supposed to give. Spinelli noticed a small fluctuation in the crowd, she presumed, from that one kid still weaving their way to the front.

"Yeah uhh, thanks. Anyway, uhh, I'm also part of Team Six who, tomorrow night, are uhh… going to be competing against Team Seven-"

"We know!" yelled one boy from the crowd.

"Shut up loser!" yelled a girl to the first boy. "We love you Diavolo Child!!!"

"Uhh thanks…" Vitto coughed, "Yeah I know you just heard this, but hear me out. Umm…okay, after witnessing tonight's fights, and after observing the outcome of the Semi-finals, uhh…"

Spinelli knew Vitto had never liked to be in the spotlight, but tonight he seemed particularly uneasy, she guessed because he wasn't used to public speaking.

"…I am so confident in my Team's abilities to beat out our opponents, Team Seven…"

"Uh oh…" Spinelli heard Jason's low voice behind her.

"…that I am placing this into the prize pool, alongside the money and the trophy." Spinelli saw Vitto pull a folded pack of papers from his back pocket. "This, uhh… is the deed to 6/66 Rosewood Drive. It includes ownership rights to the property, and uhh… and a handwritten declaration for the handover of possession of the Seventh Heaven Society name and all responsibilities, signed by myself, as the old owner."

Scandalized murmurs and gasps filtered through the crowd quicker than the cigarette hustlers' second-hand smoke.

"If… and _when_ my Team wins, my partner and I will sign the section designating the new owners."

Finally, Spinelli saw the one crowd-weaver reach the table. It was Tyson, panting from forcing his way through the barricade of kids, but with a shocked, ecstatic grin that showed it had been all worth it.

"So uhh… yeah. That is all."

Vitto stepped down from the table and all the kids began talking amongst themselves. Spinelli could see Tyson grinning and cheering at Vitto, like a wild dog pup getting excited about an upcoming hunt.

"Well," said Vince, "if you guys were for some reason or other not planning to win… you'd better change your plans."

"How stupid can Vitto be?! He's just playing straight into what Tyson wants!" said Spinelli, putting her face in her hands.

"Maybe Tyson talked him into it," said Jason, scratching the back of his head.

"It didn't look like Tyson even _knew_ about it…" said T.J., looking equally as doubtful as Jason.

Spinelli took a deep, drawling breath in and held it, thinking of herself and Vitto and Joey in that picture frame on Vitto's desk, looking so small and friendly. She thought of young Vitto and young Joey, teaching her how to fight when she was four-years-old. She thought of older Vitto, and wondered how much it would hurt to still get beaten up by him.

Spinelli released her breath and opened her eyes. Looking between the holes in her fingers, she could see her large black boots, the ones that Vitto used to own.

* * *

**A/N:** ($$ Whilst converting bath into a hot tub $$) Man, I never meant to segue so badly with the Team Seventeen kids, but when I started to give their characters a little bit of volume, I ended up making whole back stories for the two. Oh well, serves me for getting too attached to walk-on characters. As I said before, the story's only got a few more chaps to go. I might actually finish it sometime in the near future! Passes out from shock, but lands in hot tub and splutters awake 

Speaking of drowning to death… review please!


	33. Heaven help us

**A/N: ***Goofy monkey runs toward the in-going document mailbox, drops off chapter thirty-three, then runs off with her metaphorical tail between her legs before the readers can impale her with pencils and broken computer monitor glass for not updating in ages.*

*Goofy moNkey remembers she forgot to drop off the reader thankyous, groans, and does a u-turn, sprinting back toward HQ*

"A huge thanks to lilerin91 (props to you also, you rock!), 73 (Yeah! I'm not the only one who signs off with 'later days'!), obsessed-fic-fan2 (thanks so much man! I really appreciate your comments), Silver Lizzie (Woo, favourites! Woo alerts! Woo comments! Woo solitaire!), Brenda G (I've finally updated, hehe... hope you like it), Siy Rowling (Thanks so much for your comment. You're a fast reader to do it in an hour!), and xXx Aazeen xXx (Umm this is kind of a 'soon' update... yeah? ...Right? ^.^;) for reviewing. You all can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, any time you guys want. Or under my verandah, andah, andah."

*Having dropped off the review thanks, goofy monkey runs away from HQ once again, in fear of the wrath which may ensue for tardy updates*

"Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the ging--"

*Goofy monkey realises she is, in fact, not the gingerbread man, nor any sort of gingerbread, nor a man. Goofy monkey keeps on running regardless.*

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter thirty-three: Heaven Help Us**

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* * *

  
**

Saturday nights had always been one of Spinelli's favourite nights. There was no school, she could stay up until ten-thirty, and Slamback Champion Wrestling was on Channel five. However, this Saturday night would be different.

Spinelli sat on the floor in front of the lounge room television set, hugging her knees and remaining bizarrely quiet. Bob Spinelli sat on the couch behind her, intermittently throwing his fists in the air, or yelling various deviations of 'Come on Killer!' and 'Send that ol' Masher fogey back to the old folks' home!' Flo Spinelli sat in the armchair beside her daughter, moisturising her feet and shaking her head now and then to her husband's wild reactions. Spinelli's eyes flicked toward the VCR clock every few seconds. It was 8:46 pm.

She yawned a uselessly large yawn after watching Mad Masher call Big Sally and A-League into the ring to finish off an unsuspecting Killer Kalhoon. "You know, I think I might head off to bed."

"Really? But it's only quarter to nine—you haven't even seen if Kalhoon gets revenge on Masher via some sorta' cage match!" said Bob.

Flo rubbed her moisturised hands together and looked up at her daughter, "Pookie, you've been going to bed awfully early these past few weekends. Usually you're bouncing off the walls until I coax you to go to bed with your old Mister Monk Monk."

"Yeah…" Spinelli got up and began to move toward the stairs. "I've just uhh… been worked over with school... and things."

Flo pursed her lips. "Mmm, well… goodnight then, I guess."

"Yeah, night," said Spinelli, turning to the staircase and walking up one step, two steps, listening to Killer Kalhoon breathing out threats against Mad Masher, three steps…

"Hey," she turned around. Both her parents glanced up at her.

"What is it, Pookie?" said Bob. In the lone glow of the television he looked somewhat thinner, particularly in the face, and Spinelli could see a little piece of Joey in there, mostly in his cheery, genuine eyes. Her and Vitto on the other hand had gotten Flo's eyes—dark and exotic, but with a touch of vulnerability.

"I've just been wondering, for a few weeks, uhh…" Spinelli held onto the stair rail. "How did me and Vitto get along, like, when we were younger?"

Bob chuckled. "Ooh, you two butted heads sometimes, especially when you were a little tyke."

"I remember one time," Flo said, "I walked into Vitto and Joey's room to collect their bed sheets, and I found you and them scrapping away like little monsters."

"What'd you do?" Spinelli asked, already knowing this part of the story.

"Well I told those boys off of course!" Flo smiled and rubbed off the remains of the moisturiser on her calves. "It was funny though, before you were four you were such a delicate little lady," Flo chuckled, and Spinelli grimaced at the thought of ever being 'delicate', let alone the other two words. "I thought you'd be crying your little eyes out. But when you were fighting with the boys you had this adorable little grin on your mouth. And after that it seemed you all of a sudden became this scrappy little tomboy."

"The scrappy tomboy we know and love today!" said Bob, with that proud-Dad look that always made Spinelli instinctively flinch and prepare for an enthusiastic hair-ruffling.

Flo looked dreamily at the television set, where Killer Kalhoon was now taking revenge on all three of his competitors with almost unbelievable ease. "As odd as it is, I suppose in a way your brothers' roughhousing directed your interests, and made you who you are."

Bob nodded and the two adults turned back to the glowing screen. The youngest Spinelli child stood for a long time at the bottom of the stairs, replaying her mother's last five words.

* * *

When Spinelli walked down Rosewood Drive at 8:50pm, she saw in the dim streetlight glow and the backlight from the apartment awnings of number 66 the outline of three boys standing in the street. Vince was juggling a rock with his feet like a soccer ball, Jason was talking and looking over at the apartment blocks, and T.J. had his hands in his pockets, watching Vince and periodically looking up and down the street.

As Spinelli neared closer, T.J. caught sight of her and waved. "Hey Spin!"

"Hey," said Spinelli, and the other two boys turned to her. As Vince kicked his rock into the air with his sneaker sole, Spinelli's boot shot out and kicked it sideways out of the air, point blank.

"Feeling agile, are we?" asked Jason.

Spinelli walked on, toward the basement marked number six.

"More like clearheaded."

* * *

The four reached the door, and the eye-slot slid open as if reacting to bodily heat.

"Password?" said the pair of eyes.

Spinelli didn't have to get the business card out of her jacket pocket. She'd memorised the password over and over since she'd received it last night. Not that she'd needed to—the word had been stamped on her chest, burned into the back of her skull, branded on her forehead since the first day she'd been invited here.

"Thrasher."

The door clicked and pulled opened with a creak. They stepped inside.

* * *

The crowd looked a little smaller than it had last night, which was understandable, considering the amount that probably came solely to watch their own team compete. Still, there were no less than fifty people, all milling around the room with a similar buzz of anticipation and bloodthirstiness.

"We'd better go sign in," Jason said, leaning down to Spinelli's ear so she could hear him amongst the crowd din, "before this mob get bored and violent."

Spinelli nodded. "We're gonna' head off guys. So uhh…"

"Okay." Vince saluted. "Good luck guys."

"Uhh yeah. Good luck!" T.J. shuffled his feet around a bit, and looked up at the hanging fluorescent tubes. "Uhh… and you know that if, y'know… you get whomped out there," he held up the dark blue backpack in which he packed his first-aid supplies, "I'm your man. You got it?"

Spinelli looked at the bag, and remembered that somewhere inside were band-aids with tiny pictures of her favourite wrestlers on them. "Yeah Teej, I got it." She smiled. "You're my man."

* * *

After visiting the referee's table, Jason and Spinelli tucked themselves away into a dark, quiet corner—which wasn't all that dark or all that quiet—to have one last discussion of strategy.

"How's your fist feeling?" asked Jason.

Spinelli wriggled the fingers on her right hand. "Still kinda' sore, but I figure if I go easy on it I can still give Madame Fist a bit of fun."

"Alright, but just keep that 'going easy on it' tactic in your head. I don't want you wasting all your strength and I don't want you screwing up your hand for good. You've got plenty of other talents you can work with. I think you should just save your good fist for that killer uppercut."

Spinelli nodded somewhat absently, still flexing her fingers on her right hand. "Who's gonna' go first?"

Jason looked up at the ring, where the commentator boy was just now climbing through (or rather tangling himself in amongst) the ropes.

"I don't know. We've got two options, as I see it." He flattened his palms and rubbed his cheeks, which were white in the centre, making his freckles stand out like 3-D, and blotchy pink around the jaw lines, making his red hair look bright and bold. "We can wait until one of them gets in the ring and then make sure we're fighting who we want to fight. Or, we can pick an order now and leave it all in God's hands."

"Seeing as how I don't really wanna' fight either of them, maybe we should give God's hands a chance."

Jason nodded. "Well kiddo, that decision seems only appropriate, given we're about to take on the real team from hell."

Spinelli and Jason both looked up to the ring when a static whine of a microphone being turned on droned over the speakers. The commentator flicked the microphone with his middle finger, then brought it to his lips, "Check one, check one, two. Are we on? Check one, two. Hey _ladies_, I've got a really big—oh… we are on? Oh right. Ladiiiiiieeeees and Gentlemeeeeeeen… but especially _ladieees_… heh hee… welcome to the Seventh Heaven Sociiiiiiiiety! Tonight's the big one! That's right—it's our sixth tag team tournament, and tonight is the Finals showdown between our top two teams: Teeeeeeeeam Siiiiiiiiiiiiiix and Teeeeeeeeeeam Seeeeeveeeeeen!"

Jason held his chin high, and Spinelli saw the colour of his cheeks toughen, just so slightly.

* * *

"First in the ring tonight: from Team Six, it's the so far undefeated Diavolooooooo Chiiiiiild!"

Vitto stood in one corner, looking around the ring with a pursed brow and arms folded over his chest, as if the crowd were booing him instead of cheering like giddy fan boys and girls.

"And his first opponent: from Team Seven, _also_ undefeated in the tournament so far, it's Cerrrrrrrrberuuuuuuuus!"

Jason stood in the opposite corner of the ring, clutching the ropes and trying to make himself look zen. He really hadn't wanted Spinelli to have had to face her older brother first up, but then again he hadn't particularly wanted to face him either.

"Both of these guys are long time members of the Seventh Heaven Society, both with unique fighting styles, so we should be in for one hell of a fight here tonight..."

The match bell rang out three times, and the two teenages boys started toward each other. When they met in the centre, Vitto still had his arms folded.

"Jason, give up."

Jason narrowed his eyes, kicked out his right foot and belted Vitto in the side.

"No."

Vitto winced and put his hands up.

"Stand down and we can make this much smoother."

Jason used Vitto's open guard to punch him in the stomach and the arm. Vitto drew back into his own corner.

"Nuh uh," Jason said. "Why don't _you_ stand down? Why don't _you_ give up?"

Vitto put up his fists guarding his face and stepped toward Jason.

"I can't lose it."

Jason kept his own fists up, watching as Vitto's eyes dodged between the dark wisps of hair in his face.

"You can't lose what? You mean _this_? This club thing? This below-poverty excuse for a rented basement? Come on Vitto, have you gone nuts?"

"It was my _brother's_."

"It was _her_ brother's too!" Jason took a jab at Vitto's face and Vitto blocked it with a fast fist action. "You're gonna' turn your back on your little sister just so you and Tyson can _win_?"

"I don't see you standing up for your little brother." Vitto cracked a smile and Jason faltered for a moment, unaccustomed to seeing a smile on Vitto's face.

"That's different and you know it!" Jason paced around Vitto, trying not to slip on his own sweat. "You know Tyson's using you to get what he wants. You know this Vitto, I know that you do. Just let me and Ashley win, and then we can give this club back to you. We just don't want Tyson involved. Come on man, you're not this stupid..."

Vitto's smile snapped into a tooth-bearing snarl. "I know I'm not! I didn't think you were either but you're proving me very wrong..."

Vitto reared his left fist back over his chest, then flung his elbow forward, striking Jason square in the cheek. Jason reeled back, grabbing his cheek, feeling a loose tooth. He tried to keep his tongue away from the blood pooling in his mouth as he looked over at Vitto.

"Tyson is a smart kid—a lot smarter than me, and in some ways a lot smarter than you." Vitto flexed his fingers, looking out at the vague darkness above the crowds and below the sparkling lights. "He knows what's best."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jason backed against the turnbuckles on the corner pole of the ring, wheezing and gripping his side tightly. Even from the crowd it was clear that his red lips and swollen cheek weren't the only injuries he'd gained from the fight so far. Heading toward Jason with a slight limp in his right leg, Vitto wasn't looking any better.

Amongst the crowd, Vince looked down at T.J. The freckled boy was wringing his hands over the straps of his backpack.

"Intense, huh?" said Vince.

T.J. drew the backpack into his hands and began to hug it, not taking his eyes off the fight before him. "You think Jason'll beat Vitto?"

Vince rubbed the back of his neck. "Does it really matter?"

T.J.'s eyes, peering out over the top of his backpack, moved from the fight to Vince. "Of course it matters. What if Jase' and Spin lose and... Tyson gets a share of the deed to the club and he like... destroys it or something and... what ever... the thing... you know! This is important!" T.J.'s arms were wrapped around his backpack as tight as a little kid wrapping his arms around a stuffed monkey toy.

"I know it seems like it is. It seems like one of those 'win or die' situations we're so good at getting ourselves into. It's just..." Vince bit his lip. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, you know? I mean, what if Spin and Jason win this thing? They get the deed to this basement. Big deal. It's not like Tyson's gonna' give up just like that. If he really wants revenge on someone he'll get it. What if he snaps and goes after his brother? Or Spinelli? Something about the way we're going about this doesn't make sense."

T.J. screwed his face up and closed his eyes. "So you think they should just give up?"

"No, of course I don't! I... I just don't think we should put all our hopes into this one little fight, because really, when a guy's angry at you there's not a lot you can do about it," Vince glanced back up at the fight, "short of locking him up in a big steel box."

* * *

Vitto wrapped his arms around Jason's waist.

"Man, what are you--" Before Jason could finish his protest he found himself lifted off his feet and hauled over Vitto's sweaty shoulder.

"Put me down!"

Vitto crouched and staggered about, buckling under the weight of the husky sixteen-year-old.

"Man, you've gained some weight since last time."

"Sure," said Jason. "It's all muscle."

Jason felt Vitto trudging toward the ropes, and realised what was about to happen.

Vitto stopped before the ropes, Jason's legs dangling over his shoulder. The crowd before him all took a step back and began to cheer wildly.

As Vitto heaved Jason off of his shoulder, Jason wrapped his arms tightly around Vitto's back. Jason fell for the floor, pulling Vitto headfirst over the ropes with him. Both boys grabbed at the ropes to stop them hitting the floor outside the ring. Jason clasped a rope with his right hand while Vitto anchored himself against the outside of the ring with his foot.

"Cerberus and Diavolo Child both holding onto the ring for dear life," called the commentator, "whoever touches the floor first will be out for this round."

Vitto, still hanging upside-down with Jason's arm around his waist, bent his head to look at Jason.

"That's you."

Jason gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of Vitto's body pulling him downward. "Vitto, you don't know what you're doing."

Vitto's face, now pinkish and puffy from the falling blood flow, crushed into a grimace. "No! I know exactly what I'm doing--"

He looked down at the floor, then curled over to look at his foot, still hooked on the top ring rope.

"And you can't do this without me."

Vitto unhooked his foot and let his full weight pull Jason down. Without the added anchor, Jason lost his balance and without time to let go of Vitto, both boys fell to the floor.

"Both fighters have left the ring! The ref's checking..." the commentator looked from his table over to where the referee was crouched, inspecting the tangled mess of teenaged boys. The ref stood up and looked over at the commentator, signalling a 'C' shape with his thumb and index finger.

"And it looks like Cerberus was officially the first one to touch the floor! Diavolo Child wins the round—Team Six are the winners of the Round One!!"

* * *

T.J. dropped his backpack on the floor.

"What...?" T.J.'s mouth flapped open and shut for a bit. Then he looked to Vince and croaked, "What now?"

Vince patted T.J. on the back. "Now Spin kicks Tyson's butt."

T.J. looked away and adjusted his red cap, praying it would alter the tense binding wrapped around his brain. Vince looked at T.J. and frowned.

"Come on man, cheer up." Vince stuck his fists into his pockets and felt something plastic rattling around by his right hand. He pulled out a cassette tape labelled 'Swingin' Tunes—copy 4 Teej'. "Here's something to cheer you up."

"Oh, thanks Vince I almost forgot," said T.J., smiling lightly. "I hope what you said works. This tune in my head's driving me crazy."

T.J. put the tape in his backpack pocket, next to the box of wrestler band-aids. He whistled a slow swing tune, and began thinking about the last time he'd heard this song. He thought of Thursday afternoons, parks, and sunsets...

* * *

**A/N:** *Runs past the review watercooler and yells out in a doppler effect style*

"rrrrrrreeeeeEEEVVVVIIEEEWW PLLLLllleeeeaassseee..."


	34. Good man, bad guy

A/N: New chapter! Woo! It's a nice long one too.

Gosh. I'm so sorry about these snail-paced updates. I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with this story for soooo long. To all of you who continually put up with me, I'd like to ask for your forgiveness. I know how annoying it is trying to read a story with such slow installments. But prayerfully the few remaining chapters will get out much more quickly. The author's note at the bottom explains a system whereby, even if I don't update, you have the opportunity to get your revenge on me. Oh yes. I know you all want revenge.

Particularly the following people, who took valuable time to review the last chapter: 0-Royal-T-0, lilerin91, Silver Lizzie, readabook (x3), Anon, and FragMenteDmind—a big thanks to all of you. If I don't update on time, you all can lead the vengeance hoardes with flaming clubs, pickaxes, and big rocks that you can throw and hit me in the head with. And I have a big head, so it should be an easy target. :)

Let's get right into it then, shall we?

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**  
Chapter thirty-four: Good Man, Bad Guy  
**

"Looks like yer boyfriend lost," said an auburn-haired boy, closing the thick timber door behind him as he walked into the dark SHS corridor.

"Shut yer mouth Angelo."

The boy squinted and could see a muted green glow halfway down the corridor, where his sister held a mobile phone to her ear.

"Thalia, whatcha' doin' out here anyway? I though you wanted to watch these finals." Angelo reached his sister, and she pulled the phone down from her ear and dialled. "Or maybe you just wanted to watch the red-headed fella' wrestling."

Thalia put the phone to her ear again. "Shut yer dang mouth, horse-face. I'm callin' Dad to let him know when we'll be home, and it's too noisy in that there fightin' arena."

Angelo leant back against the concrete wall. "Oh, fair 'nough."

Thalia held the phone up in the air and waved it around.

"This could take a bit. It's dang hard to find reception in here," she said. She held the phone up in the air, tried a few different areas, then held it up next to Angelo's face.

"What's this?" he said.

"Aluminium helps reception," she said. "The way I figure it, your brain is made of scrap metal."

Angelo glared.

"Dad and I didn't want to tell you," said Thalia, "'case you took it bad."

Thalia giggled. Angelo still glared.

"You're funny sis'. Real funny. Does this red-head fella' have a thing for comedians, then?"

Angelo giggled. Thalia glared.

* * *

Spinelli stretched her shoulders and closed her eyes. The commentator was announcing her, talking about Team Seven, using all sorts of puns on hell and devils and other dark matter—but it was all a static blur in the background of Spinelli's sound scape. She could feel Jason's hand patting her back in rhythmic sways and the sound of his voice calling encouraging things from behind her—but it drifted over Spinelli like an empty chip packet over a playground. She could feel her heart beating fast, the lump in her throat, the air gusting down the back of her tongue as she breathed in.

When Spinelli opened her eyes, she saw Tyson standing in the opposite corner of the ring, smirking.

And everything came gushing in—loud and clear.

"...Aaaaaaaaaaaaand in the other corner--"

"--away from your right hand as long as you..."

Thi-koomph. Thi-koomph. Thi-koomph.

"...reach your limits, you just stand down and we'll--"

"--the master of natural disasters, storming the ring with fire and lightning--"

Thi-koo. Thi-koo. Thi-koo. Thi-koo. Thi-koo.

"...ready to ravage, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's--"

Thok. Thok. Thok. Thok. Thok. Thok. Thok.

"...no reason to be afraid of him."

Gulp.

"--FIIIIIIIIIRESTOOOOOORRRRRRMMM!!!!!"

_Ding, ding, ding!_

Tyson prowled toward Spinelli, staring her down and grinning. She lurched forward, feeling off-balance and unwanted in her own body.

When Tyson's fist flicked out at her head, Spinelli dove down. His knuckles whiffed over the top of her skull. Spinelli thought to retaliate--

"OOF!"

--But Tyson got a second punch to her stomach first.

"Firestorm establishes dominance early in the match. La Nina Diablo won't take this lying down..."

Spinelli crunched her teeth together and ran toward Tyson. She outstretched her arm like a clothesline: it collided with Tyson's chest, and Spinelli wrapped her hand around Tyson's neck and pushed him to the floor with the weight of the collision.

"...But she might get Firestorm to lie down! La Nina Diablo's lariat has Firestorm on the floor, oh but not for long!"

Tyson stared at her as he laid on the floor. Spinelli glared back, but she found that the more intimidating she tried to look, the longer Tyson's grin got.

"What're you lookin' at?" snarled Spinelli, unable to take the stare-off any longer. "You two-bit gob of spit..."

Tyson grabbed Spinelli's shoulders with a talon-like grip. He flicked his legs up toward his face and, in doing so, belted Spinelli under her chin. He wrapped his legs around her neck and squeezed his knees together.

Spinelli tried to cough as Tyson's thighs pressed into her airway. She found herself gasping for air in jabs, and she began to pull her head away. Tyson's leg hold was like a headlock. Spinelli felt like an animal caught head-first in a trap. She began to thrash about, feeling her face becoming red and prickly.

As she choked, she could hear Tyson laughing. She remembered that same strange laugh from when they were in his bedroom: the laugh that had nothing to do with jokes or innocent pranks or friends.

Spinelli reached her hand toward Tyson's face and stabbed her outstretched fingers downward. The first two prods she could only feel air, but the third time she felt her fingers connect with something wet and squishy.

She heard Tyson grunt a swear word and the hold around her neck loosened slightly. She yanked her body backward and finally freed herself. As Spinelli sucked in all the air she could and rubbed her neck, she saw Tyson stumble up from the floor, holding a hand over his eyes.

"Firestorm receives a nasty swipe in the eyes. La Nina Diablo straying from her normal form with that move..."

Tyson took his hand away from his face. There were small moon-shaped red marks in the white parts of his eyes. Spinelli stood still as Tyson advanced, and wiped her fingernails hurriedly on her jacket.

"Baby thrasher's got claws," he said, pulling his shirtsleeves up to his torn vest. "Better get clipped."

Tyson swung at Spinelli's head—Spinelli ducked and jabbed at Tyson's stomach. Tyson hopped to the left and moved behind Spinelli. Spinelli whipped out her left fist, swung and turned around to Tyson at the same time. Tyson dodged the hook, and in the same motion grabbed Spinelli's shoulders and flung her across the ring in the direction of her punch momentum.

Spinelli stumbled to the floor but got to her feet straight away, slightly hunched from her aching tail bone.

Tyson came toward her again, a half-sneer on his mouth, the white parts of his eyes now entirely blood red. It gave him the impression of some demonic blonde imp, some monster boy-man who'd come out from under the bed to eat little kids...

Spinelli began swinging her arms and kicking her feet anywhere near Tyson. One or two out of every five attacks connected, keeping Tyson at bay but making Spinelli hiss for air through her gritted teeth.

Tyson came at her again, and Spinelli kept her feet planted and swung a large punch—it missed, and in the momentum Tyson reached forward and gripped his hand around the scruff of Spinelli's neck.

Spinelli could feel his thumb digging into her neck muscles, spasming her shoulders. She didn't notice how Tyson was pushing her forward, toward the corner of the ring.

"Firestorm leads La Nina Diablo to the opposite corner—he might be setting up for a suplex or—no, wait--"

Spinelli was facing the corner of the ring. The lights shone off the exposed metallic turnbuckles. She felt Tyson's fingers on her skull, clutching her hair. She felt him pulling her head back.

_Uh oh._

Tyson slammed Spinelli's face down onto the turnbuckles. There was a collective 'ooh' from the crowd, and the commentator hissed a cringing 'tss' over the microphone.

"Firestorm faceplants La Nina Diablo into the turnbuckles! Shame for the girl devil there's no padding. That's gotta' hurt..."

Spinelli collapsed to the floor and held her hands over her face, breathing in sharply. She could feel a liquid pooling in her hands, and for once she prayed it was the water leaking from her eyes. When she removed her hands from her face she was disappointed to see bright red blood gushing from her nose.

* * *

T.J. shut his eyes and swallowed the hard lump in his throat, but the image of Spinelli crunched on the floor, dripping blood from her nose like a sick kid drips snot was stuck in his head.

"That's gonna' need a lot of wrestler band-aids."

Vince grimaced. "Oh man, she's going back to how she used to fight. Come on, Spin! Move your feet girl!"

"This is gonna' sound crazy Vince, but I think Spinelli's scared." T.J. cracked his eyes open, but closed them again after seeing Spinelli still on the floor trying to stop the blood flow with her right jacket sleeve, and fend off Tyson with her left.

"That does sound crazy, but I think you're right. I see it too." Vince bit his finger and paced about. He'd been watching Spinelli's feet as she fought—planted firmly on the ring floor, only moving when she was thrown backward by an attack. She was going back to fighting the same way he'd often seen her fight on the playground: trying to thrash her way through the attack and relying on brute strength for defence. But that wasn't going to work here—especially not now Spinelli was backed into a corner. The crowd was whipping insults and cheers and comments to the two fighters. "Man this is frustrating! If she could hear us, I could tell her to start moving. She knows how to dance the dance, she's just gotta' snap out of this fear thing."

"Dance the dance?" T.J. opened his eyes.

Vince looked down at T.J. The freckled boy swung his backpack off his back and began ripping through its innards like it contained the last earthly morsel of double-double chocolate chipped chocolate chip ice cream.

He whipped out Vince's cassette tape and held it in the air.

"How's that supposed to help?" said Vince.

T.J. smiled, and his eyes glistened with an excitement Vince had seen many times before. "Be back in a second."

T.J. shot off, disappearing as he weaved through the crowd toward the far wall.

Vince looked back up to the ring: Tyson was standing over the fetally positioned girl, and the referee was entering the ring. Vince could see Jason outside the ring, looking like he was ready to leap inside the arena himself. Movement on the other side of the ring drew Vince's eye to Vitto, who was stepping down from the ringside. Vince watched carefully as Vitto moved around the outside of the room, walking very quickly toward the door. He was looking at the ground with a tightened face. Vince wasn't sure what to read that as--

"Firestorm pins La Nina Diablo, the ref's in for the count!"

Vince whipped his head back to the fight. Tyson had Spinelli pinned to the floor of the ring. The referee knelt beside them. He put his hand to the floor--

"One."

The ref's hand fell again.

"Two."

He raised his hand.

Vince saw Spinelli wriggle and kick out her leg.

"La Nina Diablo kicks out of the pin! She fends off Firestorm long enough to get to her feet, but she looks a little worse for wear..."

Vince looked back toward the door, standing on tip toes to see over the crowd, but Vitto was gone. Vince narrowed his eyes, wondering if maybe Vitto couldn't stomach seeing his little sister get beaten into the floor.

* * *

"Dang it Spin, hang in there!" said T.J. as he listened to the announcer's commentary while making his way across the room. He squeezed between one last group of teens before reaching the side wall, where the stereo tape and CD deck sat unmanned.

He ran for the deck, tightly gripping the tape labelled 'Swingin Tunes—copy 4 Teej'.

* * *

Spinelli's nose felt like a swirling police car light—with each red flash came a wave of eye-watering pain that spread with tingling aches down her cheeks and over her forehead. She wondered if Tyson, whose eyes now leaked small streams of blood, was hurting as much.

"Hey Firestorm," said Spinelli, mentally wincing when she heard how nasally and shaky her voice came out, "I think you've got something in your eye. Is that a bit of fear?"

Tyson sneered. "Only if you can see yourself in the reflection of my eyes."

* * *

The search for mobile phone reception long forgotten, Thalia instead had her little brother in a headlock, giving his hair a rough noogie. It was so dark in the corridor she could hardly even see Angelo's ruffled auburn hair, so it was a good thing that noogie-ing her little brother was a skill that came so naturally she could do it with her eyes closed.

"This here is what you get for insulting my sophisticated comedy skills!" she said. "The rodeo clown society'll have yer big horse head on a platter for insulting our humour."

"Alright, alright already!" Angelo grunted. "Just get off-"

The timber door to the arena swung open. Thalia and Angelo looked over as light and noise shot through the door, while a surly, dark-haired boy walked out. The door closed again and it was dark.

The boy's footsteps echoed hurriedly, then stopped. A door partway down the corridor opened, and the surly teen went inside the room.

Looking at the crack of light from the ajar door, Angelo said, "What-"

Thalia's hand slapped over his mouth.

"Shh," she whispered. "I think that's the owner of this place. Veetoo something."

Angelo looked at the slightly open door again. The room looked like an office of sorts. Vitto walked into the view of the door crack, holding a landline phone to his ear.

"He looks kinda' like... that fiesty girl I fought last night," whispered Angelo. "The red-head's partner."

"Hang on," said Thalia. "Ain't Veetoo's team supposed to be fightin' now?"

"Yeah... he made that announcement last night, all cocky-like. About the deed to the club and all that hoo-haa."

Thalia and Angelo looked back over to Vitto, who was talking on the phone, nodding.

"Why would a fella' be makin' phone calls in the middle of his team's fight?" asked Thalia.

The two of them listened in until Vitto hung up the phone. He walked out of the office, up the corridor, and back into the arena, not noticing the siblings watching him from the darkness down the corridor.

When the arena door clanked shut, Angelo turned to his sister and said, "Did that sound to you like he was calling-"

"Yeah, it did," replied Thalia, knowing what he was going to say. "Could mean trouble."

"Maybe we should high-tail it. Dad'll have our necks if we get caught up in anything."

"You mean Dad'll have _my_ neck, little bro'. I think we should just hang around and see what's goin' on."

Angelo smirked, though it was too dark for Thalia to see. "I think you just wanna' hang around to talk to the red-head while he's all sweaty and hot from fighting."

Though it was indeed too dark for Thalia to see, she still managed to find Angelo's head in one arm-swoop, and pull him into another rough, sisterly noogie.

"Shut it, horse-face..."

* * *

Spinelli stumbled further and further back into the corner. Her whole face was shrieking with pain from the nose outward. Tyson was advancing—if he threw her face-first into those turnbuckles again, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stay conscious.

But what escape was there?

"And La Nina Diablo looks like she's blocked in solid. This may be it for the girl devil if she doesn't… what the hell is that?"

The commentator, and the rest of the audience, looked up at the speakers as the brassy, snaring sounds of swing jazz crackled around the room. An awkward, throat-clearing hush fell over the audience, like when a strange smell infects a crowded elevator.

"And the fight is now being played to by… is that _Benny Goodman_? Okay, whatever…" said the commentator.

"Oh yeah. _Been A Good Man_. I _love_ them," said one red-headed girl in the audience. "Don't you just think they're so... neo-experimental?"

"I dunno', hey," said the slouching, shaggy-haired boy next to her. He swayed involuntarily every few seconds, squinting his bloodshot eyes at nothing in particular. "It's totally like... rock and roll... but without the guitars... and with a bunch of those shiny instruments instead."

A spiky-haired boy next to him also swayed, for no reason at all.

"Cool."

"Neo-retro," said the girl.

The slouching boy chuckled.

"Shiny."

* * *

Inside the ring, Spinelli forced herself against the corner, away from Tyson, who had started jabbing knuckle-sharp punches. She could feel the turnbuckles poking into her back. Spinelli raised her arms in front of her face and closed her eyes. This was it. It would only be a matter of Tyson's sadistic time-wasting before he winded her, grabbed her, and threw her into those turnbuckles.

Spinelli expected a whomping blow to the stomach but, peculiarly, the only thing that made it through to her senses was a rhythmic pulsing in her head...

"Step turn pivot turn pivot step turn..." Spinelli murmured to herself. The trumpets were building into wails and the tom drums were thumping snappier and stronger, and Spinelli remembered what was coming next.

As the song pounded into the chorus, Spinelli pulled her arms down from her face and spoke: "And SLIDE!"

Spinelli dived underneath Tyson's legs just as he went to throw a socking punch at her face. She leapt up on the other side of him and, before Tyson even realized where she had gone, she threw a punch square in the back of his head.

The crowd went wild, as Tyson collapsed to his knees clutching a hand over his head, still facing outwards—and Spinelli took the opportunity to make a move.

She stepped behind Tyson, grabbed the back of his boxer shorts, and pulled upwards as far as she could reach.

The crowd had the amusement of witnessing Tyson's hilarious facial expressions as Spinelli wedgied him without mercy. His face contorted from pain, to shock, to embarrassment, before Spinelli finally let his boxers go, leaving them to slap back onto his skin with a satisfying 'snap'.

The crowd sniggered and cheered as they watched Tyson double over.

Outside the ring, Vitto stepped back onto the waiting platform. When he caught sight of Tyson doubling over, face scrunched up, red boxers hanging out the back of his pants, Vitto's deadpan expression dropped.

He ran to the ringside, gripping the ropes until his knuckles turned white. "Get up Tyzack," he growled at the blonde boy. "I said get up. NOW."

Tyson forced himself to his feet and turned around, only to get immediately whacked in the right cheek. He stumbled backwards and held himself up on the side ropes. He glared furiously at Spinelli.

"You are... so... dead..."

Tyson charged forward with a pulled back fist. Spinelli murmured, "One, two three, one, two three," as the trumpets wailed.

Tyson's fist flew at Spinelli.

She smiled.

"And DIP!"

Spinelli shot her head back, narrowly dodging Tyson's fist as it flew over her face. Leaning backwards to perform the 'dip' part of the dance, she grabbed onto Tyson's outstretched punching arm for support. She pulled herself back up and grabbed onto Tyson, her left hand sitting on his shoulder, and her right hand holding his left up, outstretched from their bodies.

"La Nina Diablo, showing some ace evasive skills there, progressing into a... unique defensive grip." The commentator's voice echoed over the swing band music, "Look out folks. Might be some dangerous lindy-hop action going on soon."

Holding Tyson in the waltz-like position, Spinelli spun the two of them around and around and around. At the end of the third spin, she let go of Tyson's shoulder and pulled out, holding onto Tyson's hand. The two fighters stood there for a split second, repelled out from each other by gravity.

Tyson blinked heavily, trying to stop his eyes rolling around in dizziness.

Spinelli winked at him, smirking.

She pulled at Tyson's hand and drew the two of them back together. They lightly collided, with Spinelli's face thrown against Tyson's chest. Her free hand pressed against his chest as well, and she used it to push him outward again, repeating the dance move.

However, at the end of his repel and just before Spinelli's weight should have countered his fall, Spinelli's hand slipped out of his grasp, leaving Tyson with no foundation to stop him from falling.

Tyson landed hard on his elbows. He laid on the hard floor of the ring, head still spinning from whatever it was Spinelli had just done to him, not even sure if he was still standing up or not—a reasonable condition, considering Spinelli had done everything between 'dip' and the present moment in about seven seconds.

"Firestorm looks a bit messed up," said the commentator. "And the ref's getting in the ring-"

Lying on his back, Tyson could dizzily see the referee, upside-down, walking toward him. He could also see Vitto upside-down, practically hanging over the ringside ropes. His dark hair hung over his face, which was snarling like an attack dog.

"GET UP!" He growled, "Get... the hell... UP! How pathetic are you, Tyzack? You got knocked down by my little sister! While she was DANCING!!!"

Tyson wriggled about, trying to get his eyes to find the floor. He croaked to Vitto, "Huhwhaza…?"

"Just GET UP!" Vitto bellowed. Tyson got to his feet, and stumbling about the ring.

Vitto gripped his hair and gritted his teeth. "You're taking too long. Just finish it! You want my sister and your brother to win the deed? DO YOU?"

"No, no, no," said Tyson, holding onto a side rope while he tried to blink away the dizziness. "I don't, I don't, I want it."

Spinelli stood by, watching Tyson and laughing. He was so spaced out, he didn't even seem to know where she was. He didn't seem to know where _he_ was.

The trumpets and tom drums of the swing music were wailing and pounding to a crescendo, and Spinelli recognised this as the last section of the song.

"Yo, hellhole!" Spinelli called. Tyson looked up to see Spinelli. Or rather, Spinelli's elbow.

Right in front of his face.

SMACK!

Tyson went flying back against the ropes from the force of Spinelli's punch. The rubbery ropes gave in to his body for a moment, before snapping back and propelling him back to Spinelli.

Spinelli braced herself and caught Tyson as he came uncontrollably barreling toward her. She wrapped her arms around his back as he rammed into her torso, and Spinelli soon found herself holding the disoriented boy up, his skinny arms flopping over her own arms.

Around this time, the big band instruments began to fizzle and fade.

"Yeesh, finally I can hear myself again," said the commentator. "La Nina Diablo giving a huge elbow to Firestorm, and it looks—agh! What's this now?"

Another song began to crackle over the speakers, this one much slower than the last.

"Ugh, isn't anyone manning that thing?" said the commentator, trying to see over the audience heads to look over at the stereo. "Tony, go take care of it."

Stuck in the zone of following the musical beats, Spinelli began to sway to the slow waltz, still holding the dazed Tyson against her. She thought of the last time she'd swayed to this music, and grinned.

The audience, watching the two bloodied fighters practically slow dancing in the middle of the boxing ring, began to snigger. The commentator huffed, "This isn't the freakin' prom people!"

The music stopped. The commentator sighed. "Finally. Thanks Tony!"

Upon hearing the music disappear, Spinelli's swaying came to a stop. She looked at Tyson, still hanging off her arms.

"Wait—what am I doing?"

Spinelli dropped her arms. Tyson fell to the floor in a heap and groaned. His nose was broken and bleeding from the elbow attack, and the whites of his eyes were almost entirely red now. And though he looked creepier and more monstrous than ever, Spinelli wasn't afraid. She just felt pity.

And, at this most irrelevant moment, Spinelli found herself thinking of Randall. If there's one thing Spinelli hated, it was people who purposely inflicted pity on themselves.

She shoved Tyson onto his back and sat on top of him. She grabbed one of his legs and pulled it toward her.

"It looks like La Nina Diablo's going for a mercy hold... we may be seeing a tap out here folks!"

The audience became even more animated, and began yelling into the ring "Finish him, Diablo!" and "Tap out! Tap out!"

Tapping out was the lowest form of losing, at least in Spinelli's eyes, because it publicly proved where your pain threshold was. In most cases it proved just how cowardly and weak people really were. Occasionally she would use a tap-out while just playing around with friends, but otherwise Spinelli hardly ever resorted to such a finishing move because, despite her aggressive nature, she really hated to mess with people's dignity. Except in extreme cases.

The referee was crouching beside them, watching Tyson's hand for a tap. Spinelli pulled back harder on Tyson's leg and heard him yelp out.

"Please... don't..."

If there's one thing Spinelli hated, it was people who purposely inflicted pity on themselves. But there was another thing Spinelli remembered she hated, and that was feeling like you were inescapably a bad guy.

And Spinelli remembered to the many times when she'd felt like a bad kid, and how hard it was to see things from other peoples' points-of-view, and how horrible it had been to feel alone, and how great it had been to always have friends who'd come back and forgive her. And she looked back at Tyson, lying face-down, the ring floor beneath him slowly pooling with his nose blood.

And what she saw wasn't a snake, or a monster, or even a cool teenager. Tyson wasn't some unstoppably evil bad guy.

He was a broken little kid.

Spinelli let go of Tyson's leg. She spun herself around to face the same direction as Tyson, then she laid down forcefully, pressing her shoulder onto his back.

"La Nina Diablo breaks from the mercy hold, and in a strange move has switched to a simple pin hold... Well, it's doing the job anyway, the ref's standing by—he counts one, he counts two—and three! That's it folks! Round two is ooooooover, La Nina Diablo taking the victory and sending us into a third round tag-team decider! It's aaaaaaall happening, here at the Seventh Heaven Society!!!"

Before she got up, Spinelli leant her head down to Tyson's underneath her, and said:

"Think. You've just gotta' learn to _think_."

She saw Tyson stare into the reflection of his own blood which pooled on the floor. After a moment he spoke in a croaking growl.

"I'm _thinking_ of killing you if you don't get off me, you puny little waste of space."

Spinelli looked into the blood, watching the reflection of Tyson's face, until a drop of blood from her own bleeding nose dripped in and broke the image into rippling pieces.

She stood up and left the ring, knowing she had tried but still not feeling great about it.

* * *

**  
A/N:** I'm gonna' set a target date for the next chapter. Sometime between now and about a month from now, July 18th, I am GOING to post the next chapter. I feel that's quite achievable, even for me. It's also my Mum's birthday that date, so hopefully I can use that as a reminder. :)

BUT as I've screwed about with updates a lot, especially over the last few years, I thought this time you guys could get some insurance. If, by July 18th 2009, I have not posted chapter thirty-five of this story, you have my permission to FLAME THE CRUD OUT OF ME. Here are some flame writing suggestions, gathered from my observations of common flame-worthy techniques:

- Comment on the poor quality of my "gramer" and "speling"

- Make reference to strange sexual fetishes I may or may not struggle with

- Tell me how much my writing "sux0rs", and how I should never be a real "writ0r".

- Make reference to strange sexual fetishes my mother may or may not struggle with

- YELL THE ENTIRE FLAME IN CAPITALS

- aLtErNaTiVeLy, UsE aLl StIcKy CaPs To MaKe Me HaVe A sEiZuRe WhIlE rEaDiNg.

- Use sexist, racist, ageist, homophobic, heterophobic or xenophobic slander, regardless of whether it actually applies to me or not.

- You may also wish to make recommendations of unconventional things which I should "eat" in the near future—these include garbage products, body parts, human or animal waste, dirt, etc.

- Above all, it is intergral to every flame-writer's flaming career to make a complete ass of themselves, in each and every flame.

Oh wow, you guys are gonna' have some fun. Bet you're kinda' hoping I don't update on time, huh? :)


	35. Letting go

**A/N: **It's a good thing I set that target date, otherwise I don't think I would have gotten this done this quickly. Yay for deadlines, apparently. I've finished this in a bit of a rush to get it posted by today—i haven't even proofread properly, so I hope there's no really important plot mistakes anywhere...

On the bad side of things, you guys don't get to flame me. Well... I mean, there's still nothing stopping you from doing so... but you won't have my permission. Well... that might be even more of an incentive for you. Going against my wishes, and such.

At least I know these generous reviewers won't go against my wishes... probably: Monte-chan, lilerin91, and readabook. All your pleadings and threats for me to update faster are finally paying off!

In better news, I believe there's only two or three chapters left to go in this story. And I mean it this time. After that, it's it. The end. No more than three chapters until it's over. Otherwise, you've got permission to flame me...

*****

* * *

**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

**Chapter thirty-five: Letting Go**

**

* * *

**

When Ashley Spinelli was four-and-a-half years old, her parents sent her to Triplicate Terrace Pre-School. Ashley didn't want to go—she wanted to stay at home, playing with Mister Monk Monk and watching her mom make spaghetti sauce. When Ashley stood in front of the pre-school class, being introduced to all the other kids, she was scared stiff. What if they didn't like her? What if they were mean? What if they pushed her around? But then Ashley remembered that Joey and Vitto were both at big school right now. And that meant they must have gone to pre-school when they were younger as well. They both would have stood here, like she was now, not knowing any of the other kids. They both would have had to make friends. They both got through it.

The day didn't unfold too badly. Ashley mostly kept to herself—sitting in the corner of the dress-up closet, sitting on the edge of the play-dough table, sitting on the grass beside the sandpit, but never daring to roam where the other kids played. Near the end of the day, Ashley stood by one of the craft tables watching a few kids drawing pictures with crayons. Ashley really liked to draw, and the kids looked friendly enough, so she decided to venture over and join them.

She sat down in the spare green seat next to a curly-haired boy. She kept her head down, not looking up at the other kids, just focussing on the white paper before her. This was all going to be okay.

Ashley decided she would draw a picture of a monkey. She liked monkeys, especially the goofy ones. Maybe she would draw this goofy monkey in a funny suit, like in the movies. She could even give it a hat. A red hat. She smiled. This was gonna' be one goofy monkey.

She went to reach into the middle of the table for a red crayon, but all that was left was a bunch of broken blues, and a pink. The curly-haired boy next to her had a red, and a whole bunch of other crayons near his page that he wasn't using.

Ashley took a deep breath and tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Umm, can I please use the red one?"

The boy looked up at her. He was kind of funny looking, really—he had a pointy face and a hunchy back and small, squinty little eyes that made Ashley feel like she'd done something bad. Those squinty eyes stared straight at her.

"You're pretty," he said.

Ashley blinked.

"Umm okay. Can I use the red crayon?"

He looked down at the crayon beside his paper.

"No."

Ashley frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I'm using it."

"No you're not. You're drawing a pair of glasses with that black."

"They're not _glasses_, they're _binoculars_. Like spies use. And I might need to use the red soon, okay?"

Ashley thought this was fair enough. She'd never even heard of binopulans before, let alone what they looked like. They were probably very red. She could draw her monkey first anyway, then draw the red hat on top later.

"Can I use that brown crayon?" she asked the boy, who in fact had many crayons beside his paper that he wasn't using.

"No, I'm using it too."

"But... no, you're not. You're using the black, and the red."

"And I might need the brown soon too."

Ashley began to get mad. "You can't use three at once."

The curly-haired boy stopped drawing and looked up at her, with his squinty little eyes. Ashley shrivelled back a bit—he wasn't a big boy, but he was still a boy, and if Ashley had learned anything from living with two bigger brothers, it's that boys were tougher than girls. Since her brothers had started teaching her to fight a few weeks ago, Ashley had never made them cry, but they'd been able to make her cry plenty of times.

"I can too," said the boy. "I can do whatever I want, because you're _scared_ of me."

Ashley didn't really know how to argue with that. She sat back in her chair and looked around at the other kids. The blonde girl across from her was drawing a house with a broken yellow crayon. As she looked around, Ashley noticed all the kids at the table were using blunt, broken crayons. The only one who got to use the good crayons was the curly-haired boy. Ashley wondered for a moment why no one, not even the other boys, asked him for the better crayons.

"Please...?" she tried once more. "I just want to use the red crayon for a second. Umm... please?"

The curly-haired boy looked over at her. His squinty eyes narrowed into slits.

"You want a red crayon so much? Here." He picked up the pink crayon from the middle of the table. "Pink is like red." Then he shoved it in her face.

Ashley leaned away. "Umm, I don't like pink."

"Yes you do. Pink is a girls' colour, and you're a girl." He began to poke the tip of the pink crayon at her eyes. "A pretty pink for a pretty girl!"

"Stop it." Ashley batted the crayon away.

The boy laughed and laughed. "No! You wanted a crayon sooooooo much, then here!"

The curly-haired boy began drawing over Ashley's arms and her dress, trailing a pink line everywhere.

"Stop!" said Ashley, trying to push the crayon away. "Or... or I'm gonna' getcha'!"

Ashley remembered when her brother Vitto had pushed and prodded her to fight him a few weeks ago. She didn't have to take this from a boy. She didn't have to take this from anyone. Maybe the other kids didn't stand up to this boy because they didn't have tough older brothers who'd taught them how to fight back. But she did.

Ashley Spinelli opened her mouth and yelled. She shoved the boy down with all her might, sending him sprawling to the floor, and the pink crayon flying halfway across the room.

The boy sat up. He looked up at Ashley. Ashley gulped.

Then the boy burst into tears. He ran from the drawing area, tattling and sobbing and tattling some more as he ran to get the teacher.

Ashley sat back down at the craft table. All the other kids stared at her—some looked impressed, some looked thankful, and some looked scared. She reached over, picked up the red crayon, and began to draw a red cap for her monkey. She couldn't wait to tell Joey and Vitto about this.

* * *

Spinelli would never remember all the details from the first time she met Randall. Frankly, she'd rather not remember the details of _any_ time she met Randall. But as Spinelli stood outside the ring, waiting for the last round to start and watching her brother talking to Tyson in the opposite corner, one nagging thought would press upon her mind, about how she could once draw so much courage from the thought of her brothers.

* * *

Vitto looked over toward the door, then down at the commentator's table. The commentator kid was milling around, wasting time—wasting _his_ time—

"Hey thrasher, mind if I take this round?" said Tyson.

Vitto glanced down at the blonde boy. "Yeah, I do mind."

"Oh—I'll tag you in, though, toward the end... I just got this leftover energy from the last fight that I need to-"

"You couldn't have summoned that energy a few minutes ago?" Vitto stared at Tyson blankly. Tyson looked up at the older boy, unsure of how to respond. Vitto shook his head, "It's my turn."

"Oh sure... yeah sure. You just tag me in when you want to. I can prove myself after that last-"

"No. I need—I want this over and done with quickly."

"Well of course, the quicker we can crush the losers the better, but can't I just fight Jas-"

"No."

"But I just want a little-"

"NO. You don't just want a little fight. You want to take out your stupid little teenage angst on everyone. You're not going to get all worked up and draw things out like you always do, and you're not going to mess things up again, because you're not going to be fighting. I will not tag you in. I need us to win this."

Vitto looked away, toward the door. Tyson sat himself down on the platform outside the ring, chin in his hand.

* * *

"It's the final match of the tournament! Make some noooooooooooise!"

The ringing of the commentator's voice over the speakers mixed in with the sounding of the starting bell. Jason ran a hand through his orange hair. His face was still laquered with a fine layer of sweat, and he was beginning to get the pink and white blotchiness over his cheeks that Spinelli had noticed the last time he'd fought Vitto.

Spinelli watched from outside the ring as Vitto strode toward Jason. She put her face in her hands and opened her fingers to slits, not really wanting to watch what would happen but knowing she had to keep an eye on the fight. Vitto again was trying to get a hold of Jason to throw him out of the ring. Jason seemed to be evading Vitto well enough for the time being, but Spinelli closed the slits of her fingers, unsure of how long he could keep it up.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Jason or his fighting skills. It was his discretion that Spinelli was skeptical about. With the history of friendship between the two, Spinelli couldn't help but think that Jason's sense of loyalty would perhaps overshadow their need to win. Sure, in the last match both boys had thrown punches, but she had noticed that, even when Jason was in danger of losing, he never resorted to his specialty moves like the jumping roundhouse.

And Spinelli didn't blame him, really. Despite everything that had happened, Spinelli wasn't exactly sure how she'd handle having to fight her brother for real. As much as she hated to see Jason struggling to fight an old friend, she kind of hoped he wouldn't have to tag her in--

"ASHLEY!"

Spinelli looked up. Jason was struggling against an arm lock that Vitto has wrapped around his chest. More pressingly, Vitto was holding Jason facing outward against the ropes. Once he got a firm hold, he'd be all set to flip Jason out of the ring, and then that would be it. It'd all be over.

Spinelli made her way around to the side of the ring where Jason was wriggling against Vitto's hold.

"Just to... let you know..." said Jason in between struggling grunts, "...we may be in... a bit of trouble."

"Yeah." Spinelli gripped the ropes tightly. She couldn't see Vitto's face behind Jason's body.

"I'm so sorry," said Jason.

"It's okay," said Spinelli, trying to stop her mind from caving in to thoughts of her fearful, four-year-old self.

"You don't have to.. if you don't want to..." said Jason, frantically trying to rip his arm out of Vitto's tightening grip. "I'd understand if you don't want to... it's up to you."

Jason's arm flung free from Vitto's grasp, just as Vitto's arms latched firmly around Jason's chest and ribs. Vitto lifted Jason's feet off the ground.

"Yeah, it is up to me," said Spinelli. "I don't want to, but I think I _need_ to..."

Spinelli swung her hand forward. It slapped against Jason's free hand.

* * *

"La Nina Diablo tags into the round!" yelled the commentator. "She leaps into the ring as Cerberus bows out. Now it's two sides of darkness facing off—Diavolo versus Diablo..."

Down in the crowd, Vince put a hand on T.J.'s arm.

"You got that backpack ready?"

T.J. stared up at the ring, eyes wide.

"Yeah."

"Good." Vince looked back up at the ring. "Someone's going to need a whole lotta' band-aids."

* * *

Spinelli stood six feet away from her older brother, looking up at him.

He looked over at her, stretching his shoulders and panting.

"Well. Alright then." He quickly glanced out across the crowd. Probably thinking about how to spend the two thousand or so dollars his team was about to win, Spinelli thought.

Spinelli knew she should strike now while he was distracted. She knew it, but nothing in her body acted upon it. Only her feet seemed to be working, working away at keeping as much distance between herself and Vitto as possible.

"Okay, we're gonna' do this quick," said Vitto, walking toward Spinelli. He outstretched his arms to grab her, and Spinelli darted away and escaped to the other side of the ring.

"Just keep moving," murmured Spinelli. "Just keep moving."

Vitto came toward her again, edging forward in small steps. Spinelli steadied herself as he approached, and as he came about three feet away, Spinelli dove to the side and scampered for the other side of the ring. Vitto pounced at her as she passed—one finger swiped by her jacket, but Spinelli's small frame otherwise evaded his grasp.

She heard Vitto panting, and when Spinelli turned back she saw him glancing over the crowd again. "Come on," he tapped his wrist as he turned back to her, "let's move this along. Let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

As he came at her again, Spinelli backed into a corner. Vitto moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. Spinelli kicked and squirmed as Vitto lifted her onto his shoulder. She could see the floor moving as he headed toward the edge of the ring.

"Diavolo Child again opting to eject his opponent from the ring—" said the commentator, "it might prove a little easier for him with this small fighter than it did with Cerberus."

As she felt Vitto reach the edge of the ring, thoughts of stupidity entered Spinelli's head: how stupid she was for thinking she could ever beat up her teenaged brother, how stupid Vitto was for not listening to her or to Jason, how stupid this whole situation was. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Spinelli blinked.

And as Vitto began to pull her off his shoulder, she realised it, as clear as if she had somehow known and lived the statement all of her life:

Stupidity was the answer.

Vitto threw Spinelli toward the floor outside the ring. At least, he tried. But there on the end of his arms, the younger girl latched onto him, swinging for dear life above the floor. She swung her legs up and hooked them around Vitto's arms, then used her free arms to crawl back up onto his shoulders.

"Ooh, close call there for La Nina Diablo—looks like the lighter fighter does have some evasive advantages up her sleeve."

"Ugh, come on!" said Vitto, trying to pull his younger sister off his shoulder.

"Don't you mean 'come off'?" said Spinelli, curling her torso around the back of Vitto's neck.

"What?"

"What _what_?"

"...Whatever." Vitto grabbed onto Spinelli's right leg and pulled down. Her body slipped off of his shoulders, but her arms clung around his neck and she swung there like a backpack hung on a living bag rack.

"Let—go!" Vitto grunted, trying not to collapse forward from the weight. Spinelli swayed lightly as Vitto trudged back into the centre of the ring.

Spinelli grinned. "_You_ let go."

"What? I'm not holding anything!"

"Your _mom's_ not holding anything."

"She's your mom too!"

"I know she is, but what are you?"

"I'm running out of time, that's what I am!"

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"You're ANNOYING." Vitto pried Spinelli's arms off his neck. She fell to the floor of the ring, landing hard on her butt before crawling forward and wrapping her arms tightly around Vitto's legs.

"Your face is annoying," Spinelli said through gritted teeth. Her tailbone ached from the fall, and she half expected Vitto to try and escape from the leg lock by kicking her in the stomach. Hanging on was also a lot more exhausting than she had expected.

"I thought you grew out of 'I know you are, but what am I' years ago," said Vitto. Spinelli looked up. Vitto was looking down at her and, to her surprise, not kicking the crud out of her. "And what the hell is all this?" He motioned to her arms wrapped around his legs.

Spinelli paused. "...What _isn't_ it?"

Vitto stared down at her with the same deadpan expression she'd remembered him having though most of childhood. Spinelli used to think she was good at deciphering that expressionless face, but things had changed in the last few weeks. When she looked up at him now, all she could see were a pair of half-lidded eyes, staring through a jungle of dark shaggy hair. Maybe things hadn't even changed. Maybe she was just better at seeing things for what they were.

Spinelli looked away from Vitto, and hid her face against his knees. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been fighting, dumping people outside the ring without hardly laying a punch on them," she said, venom and vulnerability mixing in her tone to create a strange suggestion of her own 'tough girl' persona. "I don't understand why you're doing it. But if this is how you're gonna' play--" she tightened her arms around Vitto's legs. "If I never let go, you can never get rid of me."

"And the action in the ring comes to a standstill," said the commentator, "both fighters adopting peculiar techniques which may not be working against each other, but are working in boring the crap out of the rest of us. If these 'devil' kids don't pick it up, we'll be here all night."

Spinelli heard Vitto groan. "This is serious, Ash," he said. "You don't understand how serious this is."

Vitto grabbed her wrists, and Spinelli felt her arms being wrenched apart from Vitto's legs. Before Vitto could get a better hold of her, Spinelli jumped to her feet and twisted her arms until Vitto let go. She stepped back from him and put her guard up over her face. As much as it hurt to clench her right fist, which was now visibly bruised and swollen over the knuckles, she decided it was better to keep her guard up than to allow Vitto to see the grimace on her face. Now that she was standing up, she noticed how fiercely her tailbone was aching. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer, and even though Vitto looked exhausted as well, Spinelli really wasn't sure how long it would take to wear him down completely. This had to end quickly, and she knew there was only one move good enough to bring him down.

She steeled her face—rejecting the pain, rejecting any emotions to portray a look of nothingness—and brought her fists down until she could see Vitto. He was standing still in the middle of the ring, fists half-raised, with what Spinelli imagined was the same look of nothingness.

And then things got quiet. The crowd seemed to sense the rise in tension, and lowered their voices until almost everyone stood staring in silence at one of the two fighters. The referee stood just outside the ring, eyes flicking between Vitto and Spinelli. Even the commentator stopped narrating the fight to watch, to the relief of everyone in the audience.

In the middle of the silence, Vitto's low voice carried easily to the younger Spinelli's ears. "This needs to end now. I'm real sorry, sis."

"Yeah, it does." Spinelli took a deep breath, then let it go. "And yeah, so am I, bro."

Ashley Spinelli walked toward Vitto Spinelli.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Vitto pulled a fist back.

Step.

Step.

Ashley arched her right arm downwards.

Step.

Two fists flew—Vitto's forward, Ashley's upward. Vitto's fist jolted into his sister's left cheek, while Ashley's fist rammed up under Vitto's chin.

Ashley felt something like hot pins sizzle down her cheek, and her head shot back. She spun about, startled from momentum, dizzy from impact. In her blurry, intermittent vision she could see Vitto stumbling back in a daze, gripping his chin, trying to spit blood without falling over.

Whether on purpose or in dizzy confusion, the two Spinellis stumbled their way back into the middle of the ring. They stood up for a moment, swaying on the spot, staring at each other.

And then one Spinelli fell.

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*****

**A/N: **I think i'll set another deadline, since this one seemed to work well for me. Since uni is starting back soon, i'll need a little longer... how's September 9th for everyone? In keeping with the birthday reminders, that one's my Nan's birthday.

Which reminds me, i'd better give a shoutout to my mum. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

If it happens to be any of your birthdays soon, then HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you too! Review to receive your free electronic birthday cake, or tofu electronic birthday cake substitute.


	36. Shines, Shadows, Silhouettes

**A/N: **Wow. I mean wow. God's just awesome, ain't He? There is NO WAY I could've gotten this done in time without some awesome divine Power aiding me. Wow. :) Really, I'm so happy I got this done in time.

PROPS! (Not the physical, _Who's Line Is It Anyway_ game kind... the other kind. The warm, fuzzy, intangible kind.) Readabook and or infiniteirony—phew, I updated on time and, hence, have avoided the motley looking crew of vicious professional pirate flamers once again. Huzzah! Lilerin91—maybe you WILL see me, but you just won't know it's me. Or I won't know you're there... ooh, creepy. DVDAthena—All the way to Tennessee? Hmm, that certainly is a long way to kick a butt. Though maybe with the assistance of some kinda' super butt-kicking machine... =starts working on the blueprints= T.—Ahh, hopefully I've answered at least one question here. I think an online series would be great—I'd sure love to see or read it, though I doubt I'd ever have time to actually contribute to one.

Now, on with the show! ...well, the novellised version of the show.

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

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**Chapter thirty-six: Shines, Shadows, Silhouettes**

"Hey, wake up."

"Can you hear us?"

"It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."

"Should we poke her or something?"

"Only if you want your limbs twisted off when she wakes up."

"Come on, kiddo. Come back to the real world..."

There was light.

Everything was blurry, like looking through a window on a rainy day. Lights shone down from above, broken only by three dark silhouettes that shadowed over her.

The middle silhouette reached down and touched her shoulder.

"Spinelli...?"

Spinelli blinked. The silhouettes were bold in stature, standing around her, backlit by their white shine. The middle one had the soft touch of a feathered wing. Spinelli smiled.

"Am I in heaven?" she asked. The middle one's head moved, then looked back down as she continued. "You angels are beautiful..."

The right silhouette brought a hand to its head. "Oh great. She's delirious."

Spinelli closed her eyes and shook her head. The layers of her brain and eyesight jerked around her skull until they finally slotted back together to form a coherent picture.

She opened her eyes. Three boys kneeled around her, Jason on the left, Vince on the right, and T.J., kneeling behind her head, in the middle.

"Welcome back Spin," said T.J., smiling.

Jason held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Spinelli sat up, but straight away felt her head begin to pound. She saw Vince on her other side steady her, then she looked back over at Jason. "Whoa, tender… four Jasons are holding up three fingers."

Jason cracked a smile. Vince patted her shoulder. "Ah, close enough."

They helped her to sit up, and Spinelli looked about for a moment, pulling her head together. People were still milling about the room, loosely spread into groups. Some kids had left, some were leaving, some stood around talking, some stood around smoking.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, you got knocked out," said T.J. Spinelli looked around at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, you meant after that."

Vince shifted the weight from his knees to his feet. "Well, you and Vitto kinda' punched each other at the same time, and when you came down he came down right after you."

"I knocked Vitto out?"

"For a second," said Jason, looking about the room. "Then he got up and the ref declared Team Six winners. He looked a bit dazed though. Then Tyson jumped into the ring, looking ecstatic of course," said Jason, rolling his eyes. "And I jumped into the ring, got you, and carried you here."

"Yeah?" Spinelli rubbed the back of her head. "Thanks for that one, by the way."

"Ah kiddo, it was nothing. You know we look out for each other." Jason smiled as he reached out and gently ruffled her hair. Spinelli smiled, thinking of her Dad.

"So where are they now?" she asked.

An arm reached over her shoulder. T.J., still sitting behind her, pointed far across the room. Spinelli dodged her sight between the forest of teenage legs, and saw against the opposite wall that Vitto was sitting down. A few teenagers stood around him, one dabbing a cloth against Vitto's reddened lips. Vitto just sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, his eyes closed.

Spinelli wondered how he was feeling. She wondered if she'd cracked his teeth. She wondered if her uppercut had hurt him physically as much as his punch had hurt her. She wondered if he could afford a dentist bill. She wondered if their Mom and Dad still helped him out with money, now that he'd moved out. She wondered if anyone would ask Vitto about his injuries. She wondered if he had anyone who'd care.

Why didn't she know this?

Something inside Spinelli's body, somewhere between her ribs and her stomach, felt like it was sinking. Not even sinking—it was like something inside her was reaching out, reaching far across the room, wanting to embrace something, someone.

"Uhh..." Vince's voice snapped through Spinelli's train of thought. He was cocking his head, looking all about the room. "Jason, where's _your_ brother...?"

Jason looked around the room. His face dropped. "He was with the group around Vitto. He was counting out the cash in the trophy, I saw him. I saw him sit the trophy next to Vitto... it was just a second ago!"

"There he is," said T.J., pointing over toward the door. Tyson had his head down and his arm pressed against his chest as he quickly slipped out the door.

Spinelli cocked her head. "Where's he--"

"He's got the deed." Jason was already on his feet and moving quickly toward the door.

Vince's eyes widened as he watched Jason go. He looked down at Spinelli. Spinelli looked at Vince and nodded. Vince nodded back, and ran after Jason, who was now at the door.

Spinelli turned to T.J.

"Let's go."

"You sure you feel well enough to walk around?"

"Yeah."

"I mean really sure?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, you did just get knocked out. There's no shame in wanting to sit down for--"

"Teej, you're doing the Gus thing again."

T.J. grimaced. "Sorry."

"It's alright. Besides," Spinelli smirked at him, "this is me you're talkin' to. I'll be fine."

He smiled back. "Yeah."

T.J. got to his feet and Spinelli looked up at him. Standing over her, a shining light behind his head, he became a silhouette again—though, this time, Spinelli could softly make out his facial features: his freckles, the crease of his slight smile, the glint in his eyes. He looked like T.J. Well, he _was_ T.J., but Spinelli somehow felt like this was the first time she really _saw_ him. He held out his hand to help her up.

"Thanks..." Spinelli said, putting her hand in his. T.J. pulled her up, and Spinelli stood there for a moment holding her head, looking down, watching the ground swirl beneath her.

"Spin? You alright?"

Spinelli looked up from the floor to T.J. and, strangely, everything fell into place.

"Just dizzy," she said. She put one arm around T.J.'s shoulder. "But everything's tender now. Let's go."

* * *

When T.J. and Spinelli opened the large wooden door, a flurry of yelling and banging echoed down from the concrete corridor. A few people in the room glanced briefly at the open door, but largely the din of conversation in the arena was still such a constant drone that nobody heard the yelling.

T.J. and Spinelli shuffled down the dark corridor, squinting. Someone was banging loudly on a door, and they could hear Jason yelling. When they were partway down the corridor, they heard Vince's voice.

"Is that you guys?"

Spinelli squinted and blinked a few times. She could just make out a Vince-shaped shadow, standing near them in the darkness. Spinelli looked in the direction of the banging—now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could see a slit of light near the floor, where she remembered the door to Vitto's office was; and Jason's muscular shadow standing against the door, pounding on it with his fist and yelling.

"Tyson!!! Come out and face us like a man! TYSON!"

"Jase'," called T.J. "What's going on?"

The banging stopped, and they heard Jason catching his breath.

"He's signing the deed to the club. He locked himself in and now he's gonna' sign that deed over to himself."

"What-" Spinelli started to say, before a series of pitchy sirens and brake screeches sounded from outside, past the main front door.

"What in the hang is that?" said T.J.

"Aw shoot, they're here!" said a girl's voice behind them. The four of them looked back toward the door to the arena. In the light shining through from the open door, Spinelli saw the green-eyed boy and the teenaged girl from Team Seventeen, the team her and Jason had fought last night, standing in the doorway.

"Is there a back door to this place?" the boy called down the corridor. Spinelli noted the worried look in his green eyes.

"Thalia?" Jason called. Thalia and Angelo ran down the corridor toward the group.

"Jason!" said the girl as their dark shadows reached them. "I think ya'll might wanna' skedaddle. It sounds like the police are here."

"WHAT?" Jason and Spinelli yelped.

"The police?" said T.J., raising an eyebrow which, of course, nobody could really see in the dark. "What's so bad about that? We haven't done anything wrong... have we?"

"Underground fightin' clubs ain't exactly legal," said Angelo.

Spinelli turned her head to Vince and T.J. "Not to mention the three of us aren't even supposed to be here. At least according to our parents."

Jason groaned. "There's no back door."

"Not even a fire escape?" said Thalia.

"No," said Jason, turning toward the door down the corridor. "That's the only way in and out. This is meant as a storage space, not an apartment."

"Well, let's make a break for it out the front," said T.J. "There's no other way out. I don't know about you guys, but I sure don't wanna' get into any trouble over this. Let's just go now, and hope the cops are searching the apartments upstairs or something so we can make a getaway. How's that sound...?"

There was a short moment of silence, in which everyone stared into pitch blackness.

"Whoever you are, you're right," said Thalia.

"Yeah," said Jason. "We should leave now before anything goes down."

"But what about Tyson?" said Vince.

"Leave him," said Jason, a tired, rough gravel in his voice. "I don't want you kids getting into any trouble."

The six of them started down the darkened corridor at a stumbling jog. Spinelli kept a hand on T.J.'s shoulder for support and to make sure she was travelling in the right direction. Her left cheek was itching like crazy and she didn't know why, but nothing could be done about it until they were out of here and away from this place.

"If we all run for it, I doubt they'll chase after us anyway," Spinelli heard Thalia's voice as they jogged. "They'll just deal with those kids inside who're sellin' smokes and such."

"Yeah," Jason's voice rang out. "It's the owner that really has to worry."

They were almost at the front door but, even in the darkness, Spinelli slowed up and looked back down the corridor to where she knew the arena door was. Somewhere in there her older brother was sitting against a wall, injured, unaware that the police were possibly about to burst onto the Seventh Heaven Society.

T.J., who had stopped when he felt the hand on his shoulder shift, looked at her through the darkness.

Spinelli whimpered, "...What about Vitto?"

"Vitto?" she heard Angelo say up ahead. "Don't worry 'bout him."

Then Thalia spoke. "Yeah, that Vitto guy is the one that called the fuzz."

"What...?" said Spinelli. "But why would-"

"I want to know too kiddo," said Jason hurriedly, "but right now we really need to be leaving."

Spinelli could hear the scraping and clinking of Jason unlatching the locks and, somewhere within the tense chaos of the moment, Spinelli found herself thinking of the first time she'd come to the club, when the door had been opened by Jason. Her thoughts then morphed to the second time she came here, when T.J. and Vince came with her. Now she was on the other side of the door, she tried to imagine what they might have looked like. Three puny, uncertain ten-year-olds, more naïve than tough, more children than teenagers--

Now, when Jason opened the door, a bright, blinding light shone at all of them. Spinelli shielded her eyes and blinked, and when she looked back at the door, past the light, she saw three darkened figures.

For just a moment, Spinelli thought perhaps she'd stumbled through a rift in the fabric of time, and was about to face herself, two weeks ago.

But instead her eyes adjusted and she saw three police officers standing at the doorway, glaring down at them. One was a woman, who held a flashlight in her hand. The other two were men—one with a moustache, and the other with a hand on his holster.

The six kids stared at the cops. Nobody moved, except the policewoman, who lowered her flashlight. Even though she was considerably smaller than the two male cops, she had a booming, commanding voice.

"Right—who owns this club?"

Everybody just continued to stare.

And then:

BANG!!!

Spinelli jumped, for a moment thinking one of the cops' guns had gone off by accident. But the she realised the noise had come from behind her, and she spun around to look down the corridor.

When the policewoman's flashlight shone down the corridor, it showed Tyson, staring intensely at a piece of paper in his hands and grinning manaically, the door to Vitto's office swinging open. Tyson's wide eyes didn't move from the papers in his hands.

"It's done!" he shrieked, his voice going shrill with the very effort of containing his excitement. "I've signed it! ME! I own it now, suckers! ALL OF IT!!The Seventh Heaven Society is MINE!!!"

He laughed in big heaving gasps. Then he looked up toward the light. Six kids and three cops stared back at him.

Spinelli, T.J., Vince, and Jason all looked at each other.

Then they looked at the policewoman.

Then all at once they pointed at Tyson and yelled:

"HE DOES!"

The three police officers pushed past the group and ran toward Tyson.

"Hey, I recognise him!" said the moustachioed cop, "Looks like the punk we've been profiling for that stereo theft."

"And that sports equipment," said the holster cop.

Tyson simply stood there, staring at the oncoming cops. He whimpered in a small, childlike voice:

"But I... it's mine... it's _mine_..."

And that was the last thing Spinelli saw before she felt T.J. and Vince's hands grip her jacket sleeves, pulling her out the front door into a running start.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaagh, only two chapters to go!!! I'm excited! WOO! How will it wrap up? Who knows! (Well, I suppose I do.)

If all goes according to schedule, next update will be up by the 31st of October. Birthday reminders have been working well for me so far, so I'm sticking with that. Today is my grandma's birthday—which reminds me, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANNY!!! ...Not that she has a computer or anything... but hey, it's the thought that counts. The 23rd of October is actually my birthday (if anyone wants to drop me a 'happy birthday' review then... hint hint... =silence= Uhh... or not), but I finish university a few days after that, so that's why i'm pushing it back a few days to a friend's birthday, which also happens to be Halloween. Yay, two reminders. Anywho, enough blabbings. Better get back to the writings! :)


	37. Better the diavolo you know

**A/N:** Aaah, I know my deadline to update was October 30th... university ended up going for a bit longer than I'd thought it would, and then I had quite a bit of trouble with this chapter for some reason... maybe because it's full of exposition and explanation, which I find can be very intimidating to write. And then—and THEN—when I was near finishing with the chapter, the power went out, I lost a lot of the chapter, had to write again... blah blah-de-blah blah. It was all fine, really. Stuff like that happens for a reason, I guess. Anywho, the good news is the next chapter is mostly already written, and should be up very soon. Anyways, let's not waste any more time with excuses and power outages and Freecell and whatnot. Thanks very much to those who reviewed: infiniteirony, lilerin91, DUDE, 0-Royal-T-0, Soleyrawrs, and bookwormH36. Thank you, thank you, thank you for taking the time to review. All of you. And everyone who reads, thank you. And everyone who even considers reading it, thank you, even though you won't see this.

OH MAN, THERE'S ONLY ONE CHAPTER TO GO AFTER THIS!!! =Goes nuts=

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

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**Chapter thirty-seven: Better The Diavolo You Know**

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Spinelli didn't really know where they were going. Every jolting jog made a shock of pain shoot up her tailbone, and the itch on her cheek was beginning to feel more like a sharp-legged insect was crawling down her skin. But as long as she could see T.J. and Vince and Jason running in front of her, she knew she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

They ran about two blocks from Rosewood Drive, before turning right down a quiet residential street, and finally stopping under the dim yellow ray of a streetlight. Vince and Jason caught their breaths, while T.J. bent over, panting.

Vince turned his head to Jason, "Hey, what happened to the other two?"

Jason, still catching his breath, looked down the street for Thalia and Angelo. "I don't know. We got separated about a block back."

As Spinelli came to a stop beside them, breathing through gritted teeth, T.J. stood back up.

"You feelin' okay?" he asked between pants. He was looking at her cheek with a kind of soft grimace.

"Yeah, I'm alright," she said. "Why?"

He continued staring at her cheek and bit his lip, murmuring to himself. "It's leaking. I should've put more band-aids on."

Before Spinelli could ask what he was talking about, a far-off flurry of teenage screams and yelling echoed from about two blocks away. The four kids turned in the direction of the noise, the direction of Rosewood Drive.

"I'm guessing that's everyone trying to run from the cops," said Vince. Sure enough, a minute later small groups of teenagers began to appear sporadically, running past the end of the street they were currently in. None looked overtly concerned, some even laughed as they ran, as if the cops bursting in was just another game of the Seventh Heaven Society.

"I doubt they'll bother to chase after anyone," said Jason, "unless they were selling cigarettes or... you know, they were a major part of the Society."

They continued watching the small groups jogging past the street for about five minutes. Nobody came down their street at all in that time, and as Spinelli stood watching them go in the dim light, with only the far-off murmurs of teenagers and crickets filling the crisp night air, she came to the realisation that she didn't really know what her and the guys were waiting for. Whether they were waiting until the cop cars left, or waiting because they needed to catch their breaths, or because the adrenaline was still so intense that none of them wanted to go back home, back to bed, back to their usual lives just yet—hanging around seemed like the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

And then six minutes in, just as Vince sat himself down onto the sidewalk, a group of three jogged to the end of their street and stopped. Spinelli stared at the dark figures, unsure of if they were indeed the three cops, or just random kids. The figures were huddled together in the darkness at the end of the street, and as Spinelli stared at them, she couldn't even tell if they were looking back.

But when the figures began jogging down the street toward them, Spinelli's stomach tightened. She heard T.J. beside her whimper, and Vince make a small, "uh oh". Jason motioned with his hand and quietly, without taking his eyes off the approaching group, said to Spinelli and the boys, "Don't move."

The people continued toward them, and as the streetlight slowly revealed their figures, Spinelli spotted the telltale auburn hair of Angelo and Thalia.

Jason groaned with relief and rubbed his face in his hands. "Thank You God."

Thalia slowed up in front of them. "Howdy all. Didn't think we'd find you."

Jason brought his hands down and looked at Thalia with a wearied smile. "We thought you were the cops."

Thalia chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. "Whoops, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. We got a lil' lost."

"But look who we found," said Angelo, stepping to the side to reveal the third member of their group standing behind him. Vitto stood there, a few feet back, his hands shoved in his jeans and a blank expression on his face as he glanced about at all of them.

"I remembered youse talking 'bout this Vitto guy earlier, so I figured he must be a buddy of yers," said Angelo.

Thalia nodded. "Yeah, we bumped into him after we got separated from you folk. When we said we were lookin' for you, he said he wanted to come with us."

Spinelli stared at Vitto. He had a graze under his chin, and his lips were puffed and swollen. She wanted to say something to him, but there was little to say.

Jason shifted the weight on his feet. "So," he cleared his throat, "Vitto."

Vitto nodded. "Jason."

Jason scratched his arm. "So it was you that called the police?"

Vitto furrowed his eyebrows. "How'd you figure that out?"

"Didn't. Rodeo clown and pony boy here told us." Jason motioned to Thalia and Angelo. Vitto looked over at them.

"Uhh... we overheard you," said Thalia. "In your office."

"Overheard. Not eavesdropped on." Angelo whimpered and took a step back from Vitto. "Please don't hurt us."

Vitto gazed at the two of them, then looked back at Jason. Angelo sighed with relief. Thalia snickered, elbowing Angelo and murmuring, "_Pony boy_."

Spinelli continued staring at Vitto. She couldn't quite believe that he'd found her in all this craziness—let alone that he'd gotten away from the Society at all—and she wasn't sure whether she should punch him or hug him or just walk away. She didn't know how to feel about him, about all that had happened. It didn't matter—nothing in her body could move yet anyway.

"It was the right time," said Vitto. "I knew he'd sign it. That's why I needed our team to win. To get him on the deed. To catch him."

Jason looked down at the asphalt and shook his head. "If _we'd_ won, and you hadn't called the cops, then _we_ would've owned it. Your sister and I. We could've given it back to you."

"Then Tyson would've gone after _you_ guys, to bring _you_ down."

"But you could've _told_ us. You could've explained your whole plan a long time ago, and we could've helped you. I mean honestly Vitto, I wanted to get my brother under control more than anyone—why'd you have to hide this from me? When I came to you, to warn you about what Tyson was up to, you just... just _ignored_ me. Why'd you have to cut off our whole friendship?" Jason scraped his foot against a stone on the road.

Vitto watched him, and shrugged one shoulder. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'd just figured it out for myself and... if I'd let you in on what I was planning, he would've known. You _know_ he would've. He's too good at reading people. And you and him have never gotten along—if I'd sided with you there's no way I could've gained his trust enough to get him on my team. And when I didn't believe you, you got offended. Then I got offended that you were offended and... I guess I didn't expect this to last as long as it did."

Jason folded his arms and shook his head lightly. Spinelli stared at Vitto. T.J. leant against a metal post on the sidewalk which held a sign reading: _Look out. Children about. _Vince, sitting next to the sign, looked up at T.J. They exchanged awkward glances.

Vitto cleared his throat and then, to fill the silence, said: "I tried to cause as little damage as I could."

Spinelli thought back to the fights the past two nights. She remembered that Vitto had in fact been trying to eject his opponents from the ring, instead of simply beating the snot out of them.

Vitto looked straight at her. "But you guys kept fighting back. And by the time I fought you, Ash, I'd already called the police, because during the second round I thought... well, it looked like Tyson was going to beat you. And that would've meant we'd won, and I wouldn't have had time to make the call after that. So when it got to the third round I had to make it as quick as possible. I thought catching you would be a lot easier than it was... I don't remember you being so agile." He smiled slightly at her. Spinelli made sure to keep her face as blank as possible, and Vitto's smile quickly vanished. "Anyway, I needed to finish things quick because I was running out of time and... well, I guess what I want to say is I'm sorry about _this_."

He reached out and touched her cheek. Spinelli felt something between his fingers and her skin, so she brought her hand to her face and felt a slick line of plastic running down her cheek. As she traced it further down, the plastic ended and she felt her skin again, sticky and wet. She looked at her fingers. They were blotched red. Her eyes widened.

"What _is_ it?!" she yelped.

"It's a gash," said T.J., coming up beside her. Spinelli had almost forgotten he was there, let alone Vince, still sitting on the sidewalk. "It's nothing serious, and it's not real big, it's just bleeding a lot. Why, is it hurting? Do you want another baid-aid? Here, I've got plenty more-"

Vitto turned his head to glare straight at T.J. "Settle down, doofus. She's a tough kid. She'll be fine."

T.J. swallowed heavily, and began re-adjusting his cap. "Oh. Yeah. I know. I just, umm... heh. Sure. I'll just sit down now. Okay." T.J. quietly retreated back to the sidewalk and sat down next to Vince with his cheeks in his hands.

Vitto looked back at Spinelli. "It's from the last punch I threw. It's a special move I don't use very often unless I want to KO a guy quick. I guess my knuckles must've split the skin. I've done that to a few guys before..." He cleared his throat. "Sorry to tell you, but it'll probably scar for the rest of your life."

Spinelli touched her cheek. While she wasn't too keen on having a constant reminder of the time her brother punched her in the face tattooed on her cheek, Spinelli couldn't help but think it would probably look _really_ cool.

"Look Vitto," said Jason. His face and body appeared cool and collected, but his unsteadily rising voice said otherwise. "I'm not sure I understand your line of reasoning on this whole—this whole _thing_. I mean, there's a line—didn't you get to a point where you thought, _maybe_, you should just stop? I mean—I mean come on man! Don't you know Tyson was trying to use your little sister to get to you?!" As Jason's rising voice echoed down the quiet street he suddenly became aware of his surroundings—that they were, in fact, standing in the middle of a residential street in the late hours of the night. He took a deep breath, rubbed his neck and continued quietly. "You know last Friday I found her at my place, in Tyson's room? He could've—I don't know what he would've—if she wasn't a tough kid—what kind of brother leaves his sister like that?!"

"I know, Jason!" Vitto's blank face didn't waver, but his low voice was shaking. "I know about it. I know. She told me." Vitto then looked down at Spinelli. She stared back. "I'm sorry about that, Ash. I'm _so_ sorry. I'd been trying to gain Tyson's trust for a year. I was _so_ close, and I knew—it wasn't a gamble—I knew if I got him to think I trusted him that I could get him in trouble and get rid of him, for good. I always planned to get the authorities involved. I knew they'd take him to juvie, or wherever, and I knew it was the only way to stop him. I just didn't... I never expected you to turn up when you did. I never expected you to get involved in it at all. And when you showed up I just guess, well, I wanted to handle it the way I'd planned because I wanted to keep you out of it. I wanted to... you know, protect you. I bet you think I'm some kind of monster, leaving you out to dry like that."

He looked up at the sky. Spinelli continued staring at him. "When you came to me, to tell me about Tyson trying to make moves on you, I wish I just could've..." Spinelli noticed Vitto's fists tighten. He shook his head and breathed through his teeth. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is that you know I was only doing what I thought was right."

Vitto looked back down at Spinelli and, for the first time since he'd arrived, Spinelli looked away.

_Only doing what I thought was right_. Spinelli was reminded of the story Vitto told her of when she was little, when her brothers used to show her how to fight. Somehow, she had retained the notion that Vitto's teaching was a lot rougher than it needed to be, but Vitto had always said he thought he was helping. Spinelli couldn't quite understand Vitto's reasoning on that, kind of like she couldn't quite understand those blank looks in his eyes. However, Spinelli also remembered that a certain boy had once told her how imperceptive she was to other people's thoughts and feelings. Spinelli closed her eyes and tried putting herself in Vitto's shoes.

And in the tenseness of the moment Spinelli grinned, and looked down.

She was already wearing Vitto's shoes.

"Okay," said Jason, concentrating on the ground. "I understand you thought your way was best. And I understand you didn't want to tell anyone what you were doing in case Tyson figured it out. But there's something I still don't understand." He looked up at Vitto, his eyes squinting with a concentration that seemed to be trying to furrow into Vitto's forehead, searing into his skull with some kind of fleshly telekinesis. "If your big plan was to get Tyson to sign himself onto the deed as the owner of the club, to get him into trouble with the police—how did you know that he'd sign it over to himself? Sure, he's a selfish jerk, but how did you know he wouldn't just add his name alongside yours, like you'd said, instead of taking it all for himself? If your name was still on there, you would've gotten in trouble as well. How did you _know_?"

Vitto shrugged. "I didn't. I just knew it had to be done, even if I got into trouble."

Spinelli watched as Jason and Vitto eyed each other carefully. She realised this might be one of those moments where two people who used to be good friends finally make up. Life was kind of like a movie in this way—like one of those corny buddy movies, where the 'buddies' start out well, but then somehow get into a big fight. But then three-quarters of the way through, just before everything goes to hell, the two main characters always—_always—_have a special moment where they become friends again, and then they go off and win the race, or escape the bad guys, or save Christmas, or whatever. Spinelli figured this was getting pretty close to this situation, and that the only part left was for these two buddies, Vitto and Jason, to become friends again.

"Hmm." Jason nodded, thinking. "Okay."

And that was it. No patch-ups, no big friendly reunions, no indication that anything had changed at all.

And it was about this time that Spinelli realised this wouldn't be one of those situations where everything between Vitto and Jason's friendship could be fixed in one conversation. Spinelli sat herself down on the sidewalk between T.J. and Vince. Now that she thought about it, Spinelli wasn't totally sure if things between her and Vitto were all tender yet. Had they ever been? Things between her and her brothers had always been up and down, never totally tender, never totally whomping, always just going on and on. And Spinelli realised, with a kind of stunned clarity, that life was a lot less like the movies and in fact a lot more like professional wrestling. Each wrestler has their own backstory, and the problems they face from week to week are never quite resolved—just as things seem 'right', someone challenges someone to a cage match. Killer Kalhoon and Mad Masher, for example, would be friends one week and rivals the next, allies one week and girlfriend-stealing-enemies the next. It seemed the trials of keeping a friendship together never ended, and Spinelli found something both sad and hopeful about that.

T.J. leaned toward Spinelli and murmured, "You think it's about time we headed home?"

Spinelli looked at T.J., then turned and looked at Vince, then smiled. "Yeah. It's about time."

Spinelli put her arms around the boys' shoulders, and the three of them stood up together.

"So is this the end of the Seventh Heaven Society?" asked Vince.

Spinelli shrugged. "Maybe. It was re-built before. I'd say it'll probably get re-built again, eventually."

"Shame we have to wait, though." Vince smiled. "I was kinda' getting used to the whole 'trainer' thing."

"Yeah, me too," said T.J. with a grin. "And getting beaten up in a freezer room doesn't hurt as much anymore."

Spinelli took her arms off the boys' shoulders. She smirked, and walked off toward Vitto, turning her head slightly so T.J. and Vince could hear her: "Y'know, I saw a flyer for a youth boxing club the other day. Yep, I could sure go for joining a boxing club sometime..."

T.J. and Vince looked at each other, and grinned.

Just then, another pair of arms landed around their shoulders. T.J. and Vince looked up, and saw Jason standing between them, yawning.

"It's been a long night," said Jason. "How about I walk you guys to your homes?"

"Sure," said Vince.

T.J. glanced back at Spinelli, who was now standing around sheepishly near her brother. Looking from her scuffed-up leather jacket, to her hair still tousled from fighting, to the messy cut splayed down her cheek, T.J. began to feel a strange and wonderful pull from inside his chest, a feeling he could only explain as being exceedingly proud to be her friend. More than that—he also felt exceedingly lucky that they had nothing but time to enjoy it.

"Should we wait for her?" asked Vince.

T.J. watched Spinelli for a moment more, then turned to Vince and shook his head. "I think they need some time alone."

Jason nodded. "Alright, let's go."

Standing nearby, Angelo watched the group of boys leaving. He turned to Thalia. "They're leavin'. Go ask him, quick."

Thalia looked over at Jason and the two younger boys walking away, then ran a hand through her hair. "Naw. Naw, I'm good."

Angelo turned to his sister. "Ask him!"

"No."

"Ask him!"

"No!"

"Gosh dang it, Thalia! We came all the way here. If you don't talk to him you'll be complainin' all the way home, and I ain't puttin' up with that. Now, go ask him!"

Angelo pushed Thalia in the direction of the group of boys. Thalia scowled at her brother. "Alright, alright already, yeesh."

Jason heard someone from behind him call, "Jason!". He stopped and turned to see Thalia coming after him.

"Oh, hey!" He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Ah, I forgot to say bye to you guys, didn't I? Man, I'm sorry."

She came to a stop in front of him. "Oh, naw. Don't worry yerself. Naw, what I came over for was uhh..."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Uhh, you know... I was wonderin' if I could grab yer phone number for... uhh, in case... in case the Seventh Heaven Society ever gets back up and runnin' or anything, you could maybe give us a call." She pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

"Oh, sure." Jason chuckled, looking at Thalia and raising his eyebrows. "Though I'm not sure how long it'll be before it gets set up again. Might be a while."

"Oh." Thalia bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut, as if she were trying to do a complex math problem in her head. A moment later she opened her eyes, wincing, as if she had an answer but wasn't entirely sure if it was the right one or not. "Well... umm, how 'bout you give me yer number anyway...?" She began fiddling with her phone. "I'll uhh... write down mine fer you too. Just in case you wanna', you know... hang out... or go sailin' with some Argonauts, or whatever."

"Sailing with some Argonauts...?" Jason chuckled. "Sounds like something I'd do."

Off behind Jason, Vince and T.J. stood listening. Vince elbowed T.J. in the ribs, and murmured, "I told you, man!"

T.J. winced and rubbed his side. "Told me what?"

"That there was something going on between Jason and that girl."

T.J. cocked his head. "What? How do you know there is?"

Vince turned to T.J., staring at him with disbelief. "Teej, are you serious? She practially asked him out!"

T.J. stared at Vince.

Vince rolled his eyes. "On a date!"

T.J. looked over at Jason and Thalia, who were finishing up with number-exchanging, then looked back at Vince with wide eyes.

"..._What_? Vince, how do you figure that from _that_ conversation? They're just friends. They just wanna' hang out. They said so!"

Vince glared at T.J. for a long moment.

Then he burst out laughing.

"Man Teej, you're lucky Spinelli is as oblivious as you are, otherwise you'd _never_ get a girlfriend!"

When Jason said goodbye to Thalia and rejoined the boys, Vince finally stopped laughing and they set off again down the street. T.J. stood still for a moment, staring up at the fake yellow light of a streetlamp, and all the dust and bugs that floated and twirled through the glow, as if the shining light contained a system of life all its own, like a fish tank, or an ant's nest. He looked back down, adjusted his cap ever-so-slightly, then jogged up the street after Vince.

"Vince? What do you mean I'd never get a girlfriend? Vince? And what's Spinelli got to do with it? Vince? _Vince_!?"

Back up the street, Spinelli and Vitto stood in front of each other, hands in their pockets. In the presence of her brother, Spinelli found herself thinking about home, about her parents, probably in bed sound asleep. In the morning, her mom would find the huge cut on her cheek and wonder how it possibly could've gotten there in the time between Saturday night wrestling and the Sunday morning news. The thought of it alone almost made Spinelli break her blank expression and smile.

"So," said Vitto.

"So," said Spinelli.

"How're you gonna' explain that one to Mom?" he motioned to her cheek.

The edges of Spinelli's mouth curled up uncontrollably. "You know, I was just thinking the same thing."

Vitto smiled slightly as well. "She'll freak when she sees her little 'pookie' has been getting caught up in fights again."

"More like _picking_ fights."

They looked at each other, and Spinelli couldn't hold it in anymore. She laughed. And, for the first time in what had seemed like forever, Vitto grinned. Spinelli's whole essence relaxed.

He walked up beside her, and patted a hand on the shoulder of her jacket. "So, _La Nina Diablo_. How 'bout you let big old _Diavolo Child_ walk you home?"

Spinelli glanced up at Vitto, then looked down at her black boots. They seemed to fit her better now than even before. She wondered how her brother had ever fitted into them. The thought made her smile.

"Nah. I think I'd rather let my big old _brother_ walk me home."

And the two of them walked down the lamp-lit road, Spinelli with her hands in her jacket pockets, Vitto with his hand on his little sister's shoulder.

"So," he said, "how's school?"

Spinelli shrugged one shoulder. "It's alright."

"You got that Finster lady teaching you this year?"

"Yeah."

"She still act like she's got a pole up her butt?"

"Only all the time! You had her too?"

"Yeah, every Third Street kid gets Finster at sometime. She's like a cockroach."

"Or The Terminator."

"Or Killer Kalhoon's evil twin brother Krazy Krusher."

"Exactly like that! …Except without the moustache."

"Or sometimes _with_ the moustache."

"You've got a point, bro..."

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**A/N: **Okay, now there's only the epilogue to go! Ep-i-logue. I like that word. Haha. Anywho, since I've been setting birthdays as target update dates, I think the next one should be December 25th. The best birthday for the best Dude of all. Yep, Jesus's birthday is the target for the last chapter of this unnecessarily drawn-out fan fiction. Hopefully it should be up a fair while before that, but December 25th is the cut-off. It WILL be up by then. Hopefully. Prayerfully. :)


	38. Brotherly Love

**A/N:** Well, this is the last chapter. The end. It's over. Well… at the end of the page it is. It's been a long, looooooong journey, filled with computer glitches, unsaved work, and plain old procrastination. Looking back on the lifetime of this story, I never expected it to be as well-received as it has been. I'm so, so, so glad that you guys liked this story, and that you think it reflects the original series in an accurate and positive way. This was a really great show, and I just wanted to express my love for what were already very lovable characters.

I know I'm yakking on and on—yes, yes, I'll get to the story soon—but I just want to give a special thanks to the readers, all of you, for giving even a glance at the words of this story. I really, really appreciate any time anyone has to read my stuff, let alone you guys who are also avid fans of Recess itself. Like always, thanks heaps to the reviewers of the previous chapter: infiniteirony, WeAsLeYkid8, lilerin91, Monte-chan, 0-Royal-T-0, and animationiscool. Thank you all so much for taking the time to let me know how you think the story is going, and that goes for anyone who's ever reviewed anyone anywhere in a constructive, non-malicious way. Thirdly, thank you again to anyone who's favourited or alerted this story, or my account in general. It's so comforting to know you care.

Some people have asked about a sequel. Well, I'm not sure. It's been really great writing this, but I must see what life allows. I may write one of the ideas I've had in the works for a while now. I may just lurk around and read. I may move to the isolated regions of Antarctica where there is no internet connection, to study the effects that an ice desert has on a goofy monkey child. Sure, some of these are more likely than others. But hey, who knows what the future holds?

So, for possibly the last time, I say: this is goofy monkey, out.

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**A slice of heaven & one hell of a girl**

**By goofy monkey child**

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**Chapter thirty-eight: Brotherly Love  
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On an average school day, Randall usually had to go to out of his way to avoid Detweiler and his gang's pathetic little pranks. Randall's modest attempts to gain respect (and possibly rule the playground) would be ignored and underappreciated next to the so-called 'coolness' of La Salle. And Randall's incredibly helpful and sophisticated spying techniques would ultimately be wrecked—nay, thwarted—by his long-time arch nemesis, Ashley Spinelli. But this Monday, it seemed, was a most unusual day. He hadn't seen Detweiler, La Salle, or Spinelli the entire day.

And it was getting on Randall's nerves.

When the bell for home time rang, he rushed out of Ms Furley's class (I can learn about the Civil War anytime), unintentionally pushing-over-slash-stepping-on Cornchip Girl in the mad rush down the corridor (probably up to something notorious anyways), and ran down to the bike racks to wait for a glimpse of Spinelli and the two boys.

Fifteen minutes passed and all but three bikes were picked up from the racks. The only people still hanging around were a couple of older boys loitering across the street, no sign of Spinelli's crew at all. If six years of grade school spy work had taught Randall anything, it was that absence equalled trouble.

"Those three have gotta' be up to something…" Randall rubbed his chin.

Over by the kickball field, Bradley and Eric leant against the back-safety net, kicking the dirt, looking down with surly frowns. Those two thugs had also been acting a little strangely today, being a lot quieter and more submissive than usual. Bradley also kept rubbing the back of his head and Eric had a hunch in his back, like an old man without a walker. Randall simply put it down to one too many games of British Bulldog on the weekend.

He heard the creak of the large school doors opening and ran from the bike racks, around the corner of the school on the playground side, and watched the door.

Sure enough, it was Detweiler, La Salle, and Spinelli, waltzing on out of the school building, laughing and talking about atmospheric weather changes and dodgeball players, as far as he could tell. Spinelli led as they walked down the stairs, the two boys following beside her like undersized bodyguards.

Randall sneered and pointed up at her. "Spinelli!"

Spinelli looked over at him and smirked. She and the two boys walked over. "What d'ya want, Randall?"

"I know you're up to something," he said, glancing from Spinelli, to T.J., to Vince, and back at Spinelli, hoping to catch some sort of evidence in their eyes. "Where've you three been all day? Playing hookey? Or maybe you're avoiding me because you're plotting against me! Or--"

"We've been here all day Randall," said T.J.

"Maybe your rat-finking skills just aren't as good at tracking people as you think," said Vince, folding his arms.

Randall narrowed his eyes at Vince, then looked back at Spinelli, who just stood there staring at him with that same sense of loathing she'd had in her since pre-school. Her right fist was bandaged, her nose was yellowing on the edges of a deep purple bruise, and down her right cheek was a gash that would heal quickly but probably scar well into high school. These weren't unusual things for the 'toughest kid at Third Street' to have, but it did make Randall wonder why both Spinelli _and_ his own hired goons had scored injuries over the weekend. Unless…

Randall looked back at the kickball field. Bradley and Eric weren't particularly smart, but they knew how to do what they were told. Maybe over the weekend they'd ran into Spinelli somehow. Maybe, without support from Detweiler and the rest of their gang, Bradley and Eric had taken some initiative and knocked some sweet payback into her. Sure, she'd put up a bit of a fight—given them a donk to the head and a blow to the back—but compared with her injuries they'd gotten off easy. And maybe, with the knowledge of what Randall's goons could do to her, Spinelli had gathered Detweiler and La Salle and hidden from him all day. Maybe—Randall almost drooled at the thought—Spinelli had finally come to realise the power that he held, had come to respect him, had come to _fear_ him.

"Moist…" Randall said out loud, before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat and called out to the kickball field, "Hey, lunkheads!" Bradley and Eric looked up. "Get over here!"

Randall grinned as he turned back to Spinelli and the boys. "Now since I'm such a generous soul, and not, as Spinelli so incorrectly called me the other week, a 'two-bit gob of spit'--"

T.J. bit his lip and snorted with laughter. Spinelli side-glanced him and smiled.

Randall narrowed his eyes but continued: "…I'm going to give you another chance to explain yourselves." Bradley and Eric walked up behind Randall, folding their thick arms over their chests and glaring down at the three. "Why were you guys avoiding me today?"

T.J. folded his arms with a smirk. "The same reason we always avoid you?"

Spinelli and Vince giggled. Randall growled.

"Perhaps you were… scared? Scared because you know I hold a lot of swing on this playground…?"

Spinelli and Vince laughed even harder, and T.J. joined them. Randall gritted his teeth.

"Stop it!" He pointed an accusing finger at Spinelli. "Say it! Say you're scared of me! Say you respect me or, or…" Randall threw his arm back to point at Bradley and Eric, "or I'll have _them_ beat you up again!"

Spinelli stopped laughing very quickly, and Randall sneered, assured of his power over her. Spinelli lowered her eyelids and looked Randall up and down, very slowly. Randall swallowed, becoming somewhat uneasy from the girl's probing eyes, as if she could see his heart pounding and palms sweating.

Finally Spinelli reached Randall's eyes again, and she folded her arms over her chest. Now all three of them had their arms folded. If Randall didn't _know_ them, he would have said they looked quite tough. But he _did_ know them.

"Guess you haven't heard," said Spinelli, not smiling, not smirking, not even scowling, but with a look of seriousness Randall only ever remembered seeing on adults, "but I'm not scared of monsters."

Randall blinked for a moment, trying to understand what sort of relevance that was supposed to have. Then he balled his skinny fists and forgot it.

"Boys," he said, motioning his head to the trio in front of him, "teach these three the price for crossing Randall Weems."

Bradley and Eric began rolling up their sleeves.

"You might be able to handle one of us," said Bradley, staring at Spinelli, "but you can't take on the two of us."

Bradley and Eric moved past Randall toward the younger kids. Spinelli, T.J. and Vince didn't move. Bradley sneered at the two boys, and Eric glared down at Spinelli. "Not so tough on your own, are you _La Nina Diablo_?"

"On her own?" Vince cocked an eyebrow at T.J. "What are we, mannequins?"

T.J. smiled, glancing toward Spinelli. "More like crash test dummies."

Spinelli looked up at Eric and Bradley's towering bodies. She then looked down between them, where Randall stood behind, flexing his fingers with a wicked grin.

"You're right," she said. "I'm _not_ so tough on my own. Not tough at all."

Spinelli turned her head until she was facing away from Randall and toward the side of the school. "Guys? Could you come out here now?"

Randall couldn't see past Bradley and Eric's bulky forms. He was about to push them out of the way, but then found that the two backed up, until they were standing behind him.

When Randall looked over, he saw two very large, very muscular teenage boys walking up past the bike racks toward them. One had flaming orange hair and freckles. The other had shaggy dark brown hair, and very familiar eyes.

Randall, despite the sweat now coming in bucket loads off his palms, ran a hand through his curly auburn hair.

"You think some big kids scare us? Pfft, I don't think so. Bradley? Eric? Take care of this."

Randall clicked his fingers and waited for the two brainless lugs to step forward. Nothing happened. Randall coughed.

"Bradley…? Eric…?"

Randall snapped his fingers again, and waited for something to happen. For something, anything, to intervene—the hand of God, a magical wizard, Señor Fusion…

Nothing.

Randall wiped his shaking hands on his green pants.

He turned slowly, ready to use any piece of blackmail he could to get Bradley and Eric to leap in front of him so he might have time to run for his weaselly little life.

However, the immediate problem with this plan was the lack of (a) Bradley, and (b) Eric, because both (a) and (b) were halfway across the kickball field and moving fast toward the gap in the back fence of the school.

Randall turned back to face the three kids, who were now five. The two older boys stood either side of the group. All five had their arms folded over their chests.

"You must be Randall," said the dark-haired boy. "I've heard so very much about you."

"So have I," said the redhead. "And I've heard that you might have been doing a bit of bullying lately."

The dark-haired boy gasped sarcastically. "Say it isn't so, Jason."

"I'm afraid it is, Vitto." Jason grinned. "See, I hear Randall's been blackmailing bigger kids and getting them to beat up people he doesn't like."

The one called Vitto stepped toward Randall, clucking his tongue. "Gee kid, haven't you heard?"

Randall shook his head, having lost the ability to move anything else, or even to form words.

Vitto and Jason unfolded their arms, and instead began cracking their knuckles.

"Bullies get served…"

All at once Randall felt his body come back into control. His legs kicked into motion, as did his mouth, and as he tore down the playground he heard himself screaming for help. Most of his body knew there was no chance he could outrun two teenage boys, that the most noble thing to do would be to stand his ground and take whatever punishment Spinelli's older friends had in store for him—but a small, primitive part of his mind simply said, 'To hell with that!', and ran as fast as a two-bit gob of spit could run.

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Spinelli laughed and laughed as she watched Vitto and Jason chase Randall down the playground. If there was one thing Spinelli loved—and in fact there weren't many things Spinelli really loved, but if she had to choose one—it would be justice. Especially the kind of justice that's funny to watch.

If Spinelli had to add a new item to the list of things she really loved, she might just choose her brothers. Vitto and Joey, for sure, but also T.J. and Vince, and Jason, and Mikey, Gus, and even Gretchen—they were all her 'brothers', in one way or another—everyone who stood by her through the ups and downs, everyone who looked out for her, everyone who made her who she was.

And now she thought about it, if there was one more thing Spinelli loved, it was heading down to Kelso's on a sunny afternoon to spend some time hanging out with those very people. Yes, Spinelli thought. That would be very tender indeed.

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End


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